Confessing to the Cowboy - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,91
top steps. Slim calves came into view. The shapely legs turned out to be a mile long and sheathed in leather that looked painted on. A black leather jacket with slashes of red leather under the arms emerged from the shadows. Good Lord, the jacket was unzipped down to...well, that was an impressive flash of cleavage. What did the woman have on under the jacket to cause that gravity-defying display? An urge to tug the zipper down and find out made his fingers itch.
A swirl of flaming red hair swished over her shoulder. It was the color of strawberries and oranges if they got together and made a baby. A slender, porcelain-pale neck came into view, and then lush lips painted the most improbable shade of scarlet he’d seen in a long time.
The asymmetric triangles of her black sunglasses wrapped around her head like something straight out of a science-fiction movie. He’d lay odds she had body piercings in places he did not want to know about, too.
Who the hell was she? Surely Jessup didn’t bring his sex-kitten girlfriend on whatever mission this was. Maybe she was some sort of contact who would take him to Jessup. Gray frowned as no one else was forthcoming from the jet. The goth chick was looking at him expectantly, so he stepped forward and held out his hand. “Welcome to West Virginia. I’m Grayson Pierce.”
She took his hand in the firm grip most American women used, and which still startled him. “Sammie Jo Jessup. Nice to meet you.”
“Sammie Jo—” Oh, dear God. No. “As in Sam Jessup?”
The woman’s lips curved into a dazzling smile that almost, but not quite, redeemed her extreme attire. “Let me guess. Jeff didn’t tell you I’m a woman. He thinks that’s hilarious to spring on people.”
“Right. Hilarious,” he replied dryly.
“So let’s blow this popsicle stand,” she declared, “and you can brief me in. Call me Sam if you like.”
He didn’t like. The name made her sound like a man. And despite her...avant-garde...fashion choices, she was anything but masculine under all that leather and chrome.
He slung her black duffel bag in the back of the Bronco, and with a word of thanks to the pilot, she climbed in next to him. Oddly, she smelled like roses. The old-fashioned kind with undertones of Earl Grey tea and cinnamon. A dim memory of his grandmother’s formal rose garden flashed to mind. Acres of manicured green lawns and white-linen tablecloths covered with Royal Albert china rolled through his mind’s eye unbidden. Bemused, he guided the Bronco out of the airport and onto an asphalt road that wound up into the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Although they weren’t blue at all. Fall was just starting to paint the rolling hillsides in splashes of gold and crimson, oranges and maroons that were rapidly overtaking the carpet of green.
“Wow. Pretty,” Sammie Jo commented at random.
He glanced over at her and was startled that she appeared to be studying him and not the scenery. It was hard to tell behind those dark sunglasses of hers. Had she just called him pretty? He chose to pretend she’d been referring to the scenery. “I’m told it’s spectacular when the colors peak around here.”
“Mmm. So why am I here?”
Direct, this woman. “I have no idea. Jeff Winston called me and said he needed my help figuring out what some local nut job is up to. Guy named Proctor. I assumed you would know what’s going on since you work for Jeff.”
“Nope. He didn’t tell me anything more than that. But Jeff never does anything randomly. He clearly wants you and me to have a look around the local area. Turn over a few rocks and see what we find.”
“That seems damned random of him.”
“Agreed.” She nodded. “There’s clearly something going on. He must want us to take an unbiased look at it.”
Frustration rattled through him. “Look. I have other responsibilities to get back to, and I don’t have time for chasing shadows and vague rumors.”
An eyebrow climbed above the upper rim of one tilting triangle of her sunglasses. “Like I do have time for games?” she demanded.
“Hey. He’s your boss. Take it up with Winston.”
They fell into silence and drove for some miles before he felt the least bit inclined to be civil again. Dammit, Jeff was his fraternity brother and had been a loyal friend through some rough times. He owed the guy at least a shot at making this investigation, or whatever it was, work.