her grip on the cup she held in her hand.
“I have a horse ranch. Breed Appaloosas.”
One corner of his wide, full mouth curled upward, and Libby found her gaze drawn to the spot as if it were a powerful magnet.
“Every nickel I could spare while working at Springer was put aside for the ranch. It was always my dream. And now I’m living it.”
For an instant, the muscles of his face eased…and Libby’s breath caught in her throat. He was truly a gorgeous man.
At that moment, he smiled, open and easy, for the very first time, and it seemed to her that all the oxygen had been sucked right out of the air.
“Now that you’ve discovered that I deal in horseflesh,” he said, “I guess you’re wondering how I could possibly help your father.”
In all honesty, Libby quietly responded, “I hadn’t, actually.” Then she added, “But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“Because of my extensive training all those years ago at Springer,” he told her, “I was able to qualify for a P.I. license. I’ve worked for a couple different insurance firms in the area. You’ll be needing someone with my skills, I’m sure.”
Coming from anyone else, that statement might have sounded cocky, overly prideful. But Libby didn’t feel that way about it at all. She admired the fact that he was confident.
She didn’t answer, but simply lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip of coffee. For some reason, she wasn’t ready to come to any kind of arrangement with this man.
Softly, he said, “Your father is lucky that you’re a lawyer. No one would fight harder for him than family.”
She actually flinched when she heard him mirror the very thoughts that had passed through her mind earlier when she’d been sitting out in front of the house in the car. Luckily, coffee didn’t slosh over the rim of the cup.
“You practice in San Francisco?”
“Yes.” Her tone made it clear that she was surprised by his knowledge of her.
“You’ve been mentioned in the papers,” he explained. “And there’s been plenty of talk about your arrival. Prosperino is a small town. Rich soil for the old grapevine.”
She only nodded. The sound of his voice had a lulling, mesmerizing quality.
“You look like him.”
Libby’s gaze darted to where the pad of his thumb absently traced the gentle curve of the lip of his cup, and she was bombarded with a vision of that thumb roving over the outline of her mouth. Her throat went dry and her eyes darted from his.
“Your father, I mean,” he continued. “You inherited his hair coloring. Although, if I remember correctly, his is a much darker red. But your eyes…they’re quite different from what I remember your father having. His are dark, aren’t they?”
She nodded. “I’ve got my mother’s eyes.”
“I see.”
It seemed to her that he wanted to stop there. She could see his silent, internal battle. A battle he ultimately lost.
“Your eyes are quite—” His rich tone lowered an octave as he added, “Startling.”
Libby swallowed, her spine straightening.
Startling. It was a word Stephen had often used when describing her gaze. And it was a description she’d come to loathe.
This conversation was getting much too personal for her tastes. The porcelain cup clinked firmly against the tiled countertop when she set it down. “So…what makes you think my father is innocent?”
He was very good at masking his reactions, but Libby did see his dark brows raise a fraction in surprise before he reined in his response.
“I’ve already explained. Your father is a good man. His heart—his conscience—would not allow him to poison the land. Or the people living on it.”
“Good people do bad things every single day,” she pointed out.
“I may not know him personally, but David Corbett has a strong sense of right and wrong. He’s shown that over and over again to my people.”
His gaze shifted, and she got the distinct impression that he wasn’t telling all he knew.
“Let’s just say,” he went on, “that my gut tells me he is innocent.”
Caution seemed to pulse from him. And he said no more.
Memories of Stephen flooded her mind, bringing with them a wave of pain and emotional agony that became nearly more than she could bear. Before the thoughts and feelings could get a foothold, though, she shoved them away from her, far to the back of her brain.
She didn’t need another secretive man in her life. Personal or professional.
Libby had been hurt in the past by a man who refused to reveal all, and she was determined not to be duped by another. But then the scene on the courthouse steps came rushing vividly into her mind. So many people seemed against her father. So many people wanted his head on a platter. And Springer and the authorities seemed happy to supply the length of her dad’s neck for the offering. The case seemed mountainous. And she felt terribly alone.
Maybe, she thought, an uneasy alliance with Rafe James was better than no alliance at all.
She tipped up her chin, her decision made. “Okay,” she said, reaching her hand out to him, “so we’re in this together.”
Without hesitation, he slid his hand in hers.
Three
“I can’t believe the judge denied bail.”
Rafe remained quiet as he watched Libby pace the length of the room. She was livid. And seeing her caught up in all that fury, he was struck by the sheer glory of her.
“A flight risk? How could they believe my father would run? Everyone in this town knows him. Well, most everyone, anyway.”
Turning around, she strode back toward him, her gaze dipping and roving wildly, seeing nothing, as thoughts so obviously careered through her head at lightning speed.
“He’d never run. Never. His only intention is to clear his good name.”
Her aquamarine eyes blazed with heated emotion, her long auburn curls bounced with the anger fairly pulsing from her waving arms and jutting shoulders. She was surely a sight to behold.
Finally, he felt compelled to quietly ask, “Did you know he’d planned the trip?”
He remembered how shocked she’d looked when the D.A. had requested that bail be denied due to the risk of David’s fleeing the country.
“He didn’t plan the trip,” she told him. “I did. Before Christmas. He loves to ski and
