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A mutter of exasperation escaped his lips. Turning, he caught her chin, cupped it lightly with his fingertips, and turned her head to face him. Rose’s first impulse was to pull away. But his touch was light, and he made no move to control or force her.
Heart hammering, she met his gentle gray eyes as he studied her face, seeing all the flaws—the salty tear streaks, the little scars from the hard life she’d lived, and the stain that spilled like wine from her temple to her jaw.
He shook his head. “You’re not pretty, Rose. You’re beautiful. I thought so the first time I saw you—you made me think of a hawk, fierce and wild and strong.”
“Baloney!” The word emerged as a whisper.
He shook his head again. For the space of a heartbeat, she feared Tanner was going to kiss her. But to his credit, he didn’t. She was too raw, too fragile to accept that. Instead he simply released her and put his hand on his knee.
“Rose,” he said, “sometimes I don’t think you have any idea who you are or what you’re worth. That’s why it’s all too easy to believe jerks like Garn Prescott who see women only as objects to be used. Don’t listen to them.”
She looked away, not wanting him to see that his words were getting to her. She could feel herself crumbling, breaking apart inside. As the tears came, she pressed her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook.
“Rose,” he muttered, reaching for her. “Oh, damn it, Rose!”
He pulled her close and held her. Only then did she realize how much she’d needed it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TANNER HELD HER AS IF HE WERE CRADLING AN INJURED BIRD. HE could feel her womanly warmth, the pounding of her heart, and the gentle pressure of her curves against his body as she breathed. He could hear the little catch of her breath as she struggled to hold back full-blown sobs.
The subtle fragrance of her skin crept into his senses. It would be the most natural thing in the world, he thought, to crush her close against him, even kiss her. But he’d seen enough of Rose to be aware of the barriers she’d thrown up and to know that pushing those barriers could shatter her.
Could this tender, emotionally fragile woman have aimed a long-range rifle and fired a bullet at his head?
Holding her now, it didn’t seem possible. Yet the lawman in him couldn’t rule it out. Rose was full of surprises, and she was getting to him in more ways than one. His body had already responded to her nearness. He was rock hard and ready inside the prison of his jeans. Much more of this torture and she would become aware of it. Then he’d be in trouble.
He was about to ease her away from him when she spoke. “I don’t understand it. Why do the worst men consider me such an easy mark? Is it because I don’t look big enough to fight them off? Is it because I’m so ugly that they think I’d be grateful? What is it?”
Tanner cleared his throat, scrambling for the right answer, but it wasn’t there. “You’re anything but ugly, Rose. As for the rest, hormone-crazy boys like Garn and men like that jerk in the garage are apt to go after any woman in sight. Maybe you’ve just had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That’s a sensible answer. I suppose it will have to do.” She smiled up at him, a glint of tears in her eyes. And suddenly Tanner knew the real answer to her question. She was beautiful, vulnerable, and completely alone. That combination would tempt any man. But it might not be wise to tell her that. With his body threatening to betray him, he decided to change the subject.
“Somebody shot me yesterday, Rose. I need to ask this question. Was it you?”
She drew back, a shocked expression on her face. “Of course not! What on earth makes you think I’d want to shoot you?”
“Because you’re working with Bull Tyler, or at least friends with him, and I was trespassing on his land. And because you knew right where to find me. For all I know, you could’ve been checking to make sure I was dead. As I remember, you even tried to take my gun.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Her eyes were practically shooting sparks. “Bull’s son found you first. I sent him back down the trail because the boy was upset and because somebody needed to be with his little brother. And I tried to take your gun because I was afraid you might wake up and shoot me with it.” She took a deep breath. “As for Bull Tyler, I’m not working with him. He’s not even my friend. I’m only trying to get back the land he stole from me—this land that my grandfather died protecting so I could have a home. He’s buried right over there, under that big tree trunk.”
Either she was the world’s greatest actress or she was telling the truth. Looking into her face and feeling the intensity of her emotion, Tanner had no doubt that she stood behind every word. But was she more than what he could see, more than what she had told him? Who was this woman?
“Ferg believes you killed his father,” he said.
“Believes it? He knows it! And he knows it was self-defense. He was there the night it happened. And as long as you’re asking, I also shot the brother of a drug lord in Mexico because he was trying to rape and kill me. If the cartel catches up with me, I’m dead or worse. That’s why I had to leave Río Seco and come back here. Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Lawman?”
Stunned into silence, he stared at her.
“When you came to my rescue in that garage,” she said, “the way you spoke and handled your gun told me you weren’t an ordinary cowboy. But I still can’t figure out why you’d work for a lying snake like Ferg.”
She had him. Telling her the truth might be reckless, but after her own brutal honesty, he owed her the same.
Opening an inner pocket of his vest, he took out his TSCRA ranger badge and handed it to her. Fashioned from a 1947 silver Mexican peso, it was round, with the head of a longhorn steer engraved in its center and lettering around the border.
“I’m working undercover to investigate a report of cattle rustling,” he said. “Ferg requested a ranger. I was sent because I was new and not many folks would know me.”
“How’s that going?” A hint of humor twinkled in her eyes as she returned his badge.
