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 I m wrapping up work on a coffee-table book that deals with rodeo traditions
like the Calgary Stampede and the Cheyenne Frontier Days as well as the
Bucking Horse Sale at Miles City. It s my job to supply the photos, and
somebody else writes the copy that goes along with them.
She made it sound routine. And Trey suspected it had likely become that for
her. But he was wise enough to realize that such things didn t just happen
without cause.
 You must be good at your work, he concluded.
 I am, she said simply.
 I figured you must be, or you wouldn t be able to make a living at it. It s
bound to be a highly competitive field. Is it something you ve always been
interested in?
The question caught Sloan in the midst of another sip of coffee. She swallowed
and nodded.  Since I was nine years old. I got a camera for my birthday, and
it s been my passion from that day on. She sat a little sideways on the seat,
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a shoulder brushing the passenger window, her body angled toward him and both
hands curled around the hot cup. When he turned onto another street, her
attention shifted to the front. Immediately she straightened in sudden
alertness.  This is the way to the art center. What are we doing here?
 It has a great little park area overlooking the Yellowstone River. It s an
ideal place for a picnic, Trey replied, with a sidelong watch for her
reaction.
She laughed softly in surprise.  A picnic breakfast. That s a first. An
instant later, Sloan made a quick visual search of the floorboard area by her
feet and the empty section of seat between them.  Where s the food?
 I stowed it behind the seat.
Head tipped to one side, she gave him a long look.  You must have been very
busy after you left my room.
Trey laughed low in his throat.  Let s just say that if you had gotten to the
lobby on time, you would have been waiting for me.
 Next time I won t bother to get my hair all the way dry. She settled back in
the seat, a glow of anticipation in her eyes.
No phrase had ever sounded sweeter to Trey than the one Sloan had used. It
told him that she expected there to be a  next time.
Chapter Four
S unlight glistened on the dew-damp grass, intensifying its young green color.
A few yards away, at the foot of the bluff, the Yellowstone River followed its
snaking course eastward. A wide sweep of prairie flowed from the opposite
bank, stretching the eye with its bigness.
A vagrant breeze flipped up a corner of the blanket that served as both a
table and protection from the damp grasses underneath. Sloan sat cross-legged
on it, a half-eaten flaky croissant in one hand and a plastic glass filled
with a mixture of champagne and orange juice in the other.
More croissants were piled atop the paper sack that had contained them. Next
to it sat a plastic box of California strawberries. Their luscious red color
was a contrast to the bunch of shiny black grapes lying atop a paper napkin.
A cardboard box that had seen duty as a picnic hamper sat off to the side.
Even now it held the opened champagne bottle, the orange juice carton, a
thermos of coffee, a pint of milk, plus more napkins, extra glasses, and a
collection of plastic flatware.
Trey sat at right angles to Sloan, propped upright by a bracing arm. He had
one leg stretched out its full length while the other was bent to act as a
support for the arm casually hooked over the knee. Every inch of him was male,
from the rawboned strength in his features to the muscled leanness of his
body. He certainly did not appear the kind to have croissants and mimosas for
breakfast.
 I have to admit, Sloan began,  when you pulled out that paper sack, I
thought for sure there would be sausage-and-egg biscuits inside it. This isn t
what you usually have for breakfast, is it? she asked in open doubt.
His lazy smile, combined with the gleam in his eyes, seemed somehow sexily
reckless and challenging.  My choice tends more to the steak-and-eggs side of
the menu. But I figured that a woman who starts her morning with a double
latte probably favors something lighter and a little more European.
 You certainly accomplished that, Sloan declared.  About the only thing
missing is some yogurt and granola. Don t get me wrong, she added hastily,
holding up a cautioning finger.  As far as I m concerned, this is more than
enough.
 I m glad you approve.
 Wholeheartedly, she assured him.
The steady regard of his gaze grew slightly serious.  So what happens when you
finish up here? Will you be flying back to Hawaii?
 Probably. She took another bite of the pastry and used the little finger of
that hand to brush the flaky crumbs from her lips.
 I figured that. He nodded.  Although there was the off chance you might be
stopping off somewhere to visit family.
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Sloan shook her head and quickly finished the bite in her mouth.  I don t have
any family. Both my parents are gone, and I was the only child of parents who
were only children themselves. It s been just me for so long that I ve gotten
used to it. She sent him a quick glance.  That probably sounds strange to
you.
 Not really. My father died when I was just a little tyke. I don t remember
him at all.
His words touched a chord in Sloan. Since she lost her parents when she was
six, her memories of them were sketchy at best.
 It couldn t have been easy for you, growing up, she said, thinking of her
own childhood.
 I always had Gramps. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile of
affection, but it was the brightening light in his eyes that spoke of his deep
regard for the man.  I was named after him the same as he was named after his
grandfather. Chase Benteen Calder. Gramps is the one who started calling me
Trey so there wouldn t be the confusion of two people being called by the same
name. Which is the way it should be, he said with a shrugging lift of his
head.  There s only one Chase Calder.
Always a stickler for details, Sloan frowned.  Aren t you forgetting about
your great-great grandfather? His name was Chase Calder, too.
 According to Gramps, he never used it. He went by Benteen.
 I wonder why? she murmured.
 Who knows? Trey said, unconcerned, and downed the rest of his champagne
drink in a series of manly gulps. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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