Just Friends?

Chapter Two

The sun had still not quite risen when Leandra returned to Sarah’s place. The little house was located in the center of Weaver, across from a park and the high school. The bungalow had been home to Leandra’s various aunts, and now Leandra’s cousin called it hers.

Not until now, though, had Leandra ever appreciated the charm in the little place.

No, she’d been too busy wanting to get out of Weaver to understand some of the nicer aspects of her hometown.

She parked behind the house near the garage and let herself in the back door. Like Evan’s place, it opened right into the kitchen and again, like Evan’s, it was as unlocked as it had been when Leandra had bolted out of it earlier.

She tried to be quiet as she dumped her purse in the second bedroom and padded into the single bathroom, where she flipped on the shower and waited for the hot water to steam up the small room. She felt cold to the bone.

She hadn’t exactly dressed for a cold morning trek over to Evan’s, after all. That was why she still felt haphazard shivers attacking her.

No way were they caused by Evan Taggart himself.

She stepped under the streaming water, nearly groaning with relief as the hot needles stung her skin.

“I thought I heard you leave already.” Sarah’s voice rose above the rush of water, breaking through Leandra’s dazed heat-giddiness.

Leandra looked around the tastefully striped shower curtain to see her cousin peeking around the corner of the door. “I did. I’ll just be a sec. I know you need to get ready for school.”

Sarah pushed the door open farther and entered. “Sorry,” she said as she flipped on the faucet and reached for her toothbrush. “Have a parent meeting before school this morning. Time’s tighter than usual.”

Leandra ducked back under the shower, which ran even hotter now that Sarah was using some cold water, and rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I could have stayed at the motel with the rest of the crew and not put you out.”

“You are not putting me out.” Sarah’s voice was muffled by the toothbrush. “Idiot.”

Leandra made a face and hurried through the motions. When she turned off the shower, Sarah tossed her a thick towel over the shower curtain. Leandra quickly toweled off and wrapped it around herself, then stepped out so her cousin could take over occupancy. “All yours.”

“Where were you earlier, anyway?” Sarah reached beyond the curtain and turned the water back on.

“Evan’s.” She dragged her fingers through her hair.

“In the middle of the night?” Sarah looked amused. “Anything you need to confess to Auntie Sarah?”

Leandra just shook her head as she left the bathroom. “I’ll put coffee on if you’ve got the time to drink it.”

“I always have time for coffee.” Sarah’s voice followed her down the short hall.

Sarah was a Clay, too. For the most part, the Clays were all inveterate coffee drinkers.

Leandra quickly dressed and started the coffee. The grind-your-own-beans kind that she’d sent Sarah the Christmas before. There was a half pot brewed by the time Sarah entered the kitchen. Her long, strawberry-blond hair was twisted into a thick wet braid that roped down to the middle of her back. She wore a loose-fitting knitted beige sweater over an ankle-length red skirt and looked exactly like what she was—a somewhat prim elementary school teacher.

Only Leandra knew her cousin wasn’t all prim and proper. They’d been thick as thieves while growing up, after all. “Here.” She handed Sarah a tall travel mug filled with black coffee.

“Thanks.” She took a sip, winced a little, and set the mug on the small kitchen table. “So, what was the deal with Evan? He trying to back out of the show?”

“He might hate every minute, but I’m not worried about him doing that. It’s been a long time since I moved away from Weaver, but I doubt Evan has changed in that regard. Particularly when the first episode airs in a few days.”

“True. He’s generally a reliable guy. But in what other regard is he supposed to have changed?”

Leandra shrugged. “None.”

Sarah looked skeptical, but she didn’t pursue the point. “So, you’re still going to be free tonight for supper, right? Family is all meeting at Colbys to talk about Squire’s surprise party.”

Squire Clay was their grandfather. “Friday night at Colbys. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good. You’ve been so busy with the shoot since you arrived that hardly any of us have had a chance to sit down for long and visit with you.” She grinned as she tossed a jacket around her shoulders and grabbed up her satchel. “Everyone’s been bugging me to fill them in on all your latest, and I had to break their hearts by telling them there has been no latest, even for me.”

Leandra felt a quick knot in her stomach. Not even with Sarah had Leandra been able to share everything over the past several years.

Not since Emi had died.

How could she? Sarah—nobody—could ever understand just what Leandra had endured.

Endured because of her own failings.

“I’ll be there,” she promised. “After spending a day shooting with Evan and my crew, I’ll be more than ready to sit back and chill for a while.”

“Well, I promise we won’t make it too late of a night.”

Leandra smiled faintly. “There was a time when late nights didn’t stop us.”

Sarah’s light blue eyes twinkled. “True. But right now, you look like you need about twenty hours of sleep, my friend. And those days when we could play all night have passed me by. Too old, I’m afraid.”

“Old? Please. We’re only twenty-eight. I can still hold my own, even against Axel and Derek.”

“I seriously doubt it. Particularly where Axel is concerned. I know he’s your little brother and Derek is mine, but even he has said that Axel can wear him out. And they’re the same age.” She glanced at the round clock on the wall. “Gotta run. Hope things go well today.”

Leandra hadn’t even gotten her “thanks” out, before Sarah had hurried out the door.

She exhaled, her gaze slipping around the confines of the kitchen. Currently, it was painted in muted green tones. There were pretty pale yellow canisters lined neatly on the counter, matched in color by the placemats on the table and the woven towel draped over the oven door latch. The only mishmash of anything was the collection of photographs sticking to the front of the off-white refrigerator door.

She hadn’t looked closely at Sarah’s collection before. Hadn’t dared.

She still didn’t really want to look but, for some reason, her feet inexorably closed the distance until she was standing only inches away. Her heart was in her throat. Nausea twisted at her insides. She felt hot and cold all at once as she looked.

Her mind automatically dismissed the tiny snapshots that were distinctly school photographs. Sarah’s students, undoubtedly. And she really didn’t pay much attention to the assortment of milestones marked by someone’s trusty camera.

But the more she looked, the more she’d convinced herself that she did not want to see that beautiful, perfect face, the more she realized that the one face that was not captured here was the one face Leandra most wanted to see.

Her daughter’s. Emi.

Eyes burning deep inside her head, Leandra turned away. She felt shaky and her stomach pitched even more turbulently.

Sarah had removed Emi’s photographs.

There was no doubt in Leandra’s mind that her cousin’s refrigerator door had once been graced with many pictures of Emi.

Emi’s birth had marked the beginning of the family’s next generation. There had been dozens of pictures. Leandra had sent them herself. Taken them herself.

Her heart ached and she bolted for the bathroom, overwhelmed by nausea. But even after, huddling on the cool tile floor with a washcloth pressed to her face, there was no peace for her.

Coming home to Weaver, no matter how temporarily, was only making the pain inside her worse.

When she heard the distinctive ring of her cell phone from the kitchen, she dragged herself off the floor. There was only one caller programmed into her cell phone with that particular ring tone.

Beethoven’s Fifth.

It had been Ted’s idea of a joke when he’d been messing around with Leandra’s latest cell phone to link the dramatic tune to their boss’s phone number. Leandra hadn’t had a chance to figure out how to change it. Given her propensity for losing cell phones at the rate of two or three per year, was it any wonder that she didn’t sit down with the programming guide every time?

She made it to the kitchen and wearily pulled out one of the chairs as she flipped open her latest phone. “What’s up, Marian?”

“Have you talked to that vet of yours yet about our problem?”

A fresh pain crept between Leandra’s eyes. Only this pain, at least, was not one that tore her soul to shreds. “I don’t consider Evan’s love life our problem, Marian. That’s not the focus of WITS. Remember?” Her tone went a little dry. “We’re presenting his life as a veterinarian.”

“Hon, if that were all we were doing, we’d call WITS a documentary. Not reality TV.”

The only reason Marian wanted to call her show reality TV was because it sounded more contemporary. More appealing than a documentary series to her all-important demographic—women aged 24-35. The fact that Walk in the Shoes had been just that—a small, but relatively well-respected documentary series about people and the careers they chose—before Marian came on board over a year earlier was obviously unimportant to all but a few.

And arguing the point had been getting Leandra absolutely nowhere. “I’ll see what I can find out.” She crossed her fingers beneath the table. Childish, perhaps, but the best she could do for her conscience.

“Don’t just see, Leandra. Do. This guy you found may be eye candy, but sweets only go so far. I want spice!” Marian’s voice rose. “Either you find it for me, or I’ll find someone who will.” Marian let out a huge breath. “Now,” she said more reasonably and Leandra could picture her sitting there, smiling through her big white teeth. “Are we on the same page here?”

Leandra grimaced. “I understand your page perfectly, Marian. Unless there’s something else, I need to get on with it. We’ll be taping again in a few hours.”

“Fine. But don’t forget. Spice, Leandra, spice.”

Leandra hung up her phone and shoved it in her purse. “Spice,” she muttered. No doubt the reason why Marian had sent Ted unannounced into Evan’s house that morning. A quest for spice.

“Artificial insemination. Ought to look sexier than it is.”

Leandra frowned at Ted. It was late afternoon and they’d been taping since midmorning. It was a toss-up who was more tired. Leandra and her crew set up on the outside of a small arena, or Evan and his, working with a showy black horse on the inside.

“Breeding horses is not just a business. There’s an art to it.” She kept her voice low, not wanting to add any more disruption to the day’s already frustrating attempts. “And the insemination isn’t happening right now, anyway.”

“No, they have to get that black horse to shoot his—”

“Yes,” Leandra cut him off. She’d been listening to jokes about the semen collection process long enough.

“Well, I guess you’d know all about it, growing up here.”

Here was Clay Farm, the horse ranch that her father had founded when he and her mother had been newly married. “Mmm-hmm.” She kept finding herself more distracted by the action they were trying to film than by her duties behind the scene. More specifically, she was more distracted watching Evan.

It was ridiculous, really. The man stood the same height as her own father, Jefferson, who was working alongside Evan. He wore similar clothing—dusty blue jeans and a T-shirt. His short black hair was slightly disheveled and there was definitely a hint of a five-o’clock shadow darkening his jaw—and it was only around two in the afternoon.

What was it about the guy that was so intriguing?

“Earth to Leandra.”

She moistened her lips, dragging her gaze from Evan to focus on Ted. “What?”

“I asked if you’d ever done that to a horse?”

“Only a stallion,” Leandra reminded wryly, ignoring her cameraman’s suggestive tone, “and, yes, I’ve helped collect semen before. And before you start making comments, it’s business. Big business. Do you know how high stud fees can run for a really impeccable pedigree?”

It was a moot question, since they’d been talking about such matters most of the day. Northern Light had yet to prove himself at stud, but his sire had commanded stud fees in the six figures. “They’re having some problems with Northern Light there because he’s never been ground collected before. He’s inexperienced.”

“Inexperienced?” Ted grinned slightly. “I’ll bet it’s more like he wants a warm body to snuggle up to instead of that cold tube thing Evan’s holding.”

“It’s called an A.V.—an artificial vagina. Oh, heads-up,” Leandra warned. “Howard is bringing out the mare again to tease Northern Light.”

Ted trained the camera again on the group of men surrounding the stallion and started filming. Leandra stepped slightly away, watching Northern Light’s reaction to the mare. His ears perked. The horse’s gleaming black coat twitched. His tail swished.

Bingo, Leandra thought, smiling to herself as the horse tried to lunge forward against the teasing rail, wanting to get at the mare.

Her father, at Northern Light’s head, kept the stallion from getting light in the front, making the horse resist his natural urge to rear up and mount something. Preferably the mare that had clearly, finally, spurred the young stud’s libido.

Even Ted jumped a little at Northern Light’s sudden interest, and in Leandra’s memory, there were few occasions that managed to startle the cameraman. But, she was pleased to note, the camera didn’t waver.

A nervous hand tugged at Leandra’s elbow from behind. Janet Stewart, another crew member, was frowning mightily, looking worried about the sight of the half ton of horse flesh seeming to struggle against his handlers. The girl put her mouth close to Leandra’s ear. This was only her second shoot, but so far Leandra had been pleased with the quiet girl’s work. “The horse can’t hurt the men, can he?” she whispered.

Leandra shrugged. The truth was, a stallion could crush a man if he chose. But she’d grown up around horses. She knew her father’s capacity to handle the animals. He might be in his 60s now, but he was fitter than many men half his age. And she knew Evan’s capacity equaled her dad’s.

Evan, who happened to glance their way as Northern Light gave another thwarted lunge. The gleaming black tail spiked and they could all hear the horse’s breath streaming from his nostrils.

Janet drew in a hissing breath. “Ee-uu-ww. Is he going to, uh—?”

Leandra frowned, putting her finger to her lips, silently hushing her. The answer to her production assistant’s half-formed question was clear in the satisfied actions of the men as Northern Light’s interest subsided in the mare still standing safely some distance away.

Howard, her father’s oldest ranch hand, took away the collection tube carrying Northern Light’s soon-to-be-pricey contribution to the breeding process. Leandra knew this particular specimen would only be used for analyzing. Leandra’s father led Northern Light back into the shadowy interior of the barn, where he’d be closed in his stall with fresh feed and water until his next encounter with the A.V.

Evan’s presence wasn’t ordinarily required at such proceedings, but since he and Axel were co-owners of the stallion, he had a vested interest. As he headed toward them, his gait was loose-hipped and easy and in Leandra’s mind, she envisioned the slo-mo and music that could accompany the movement once they put the piece together.

Eye candy, exactly as Marian had said. Oh, yes. Definitely eye candy.

“You realize that Northern Light was distracted by all of you over here.” Evan directed his irritation straight at Leandra. “What took most of the day should have been accomplished in a third of the time. It’s a wonder that Jefferson allowed you to even tape here today.”

“I guess that’s one of the perks about being the boss’s only daughter.” Her voice was as cool as his. She didn’t appreciate the lecture, particularly when she was very much aware of the delay they’d caused.

Evan’s lips thinned. He glanced at the camera. “I suppose you’re still filming.”

“That was the agreement, remember?” Despite that very fact, Leandra stepped closer to Evan. “Our crew follows your daily activities for a month and a half. How else can our viewers expect to walk in your shoes?”

“With boots,” he drawled. “And I remember the agreement. Doesn’t mean I have to love it. Definitely doesn’t mean I appreciate extending that inconvenience to my clients. And daddy of yours or not, Jefferson Clay is one of my best clients. We’re planning to breed one of his mares to Northern Light, and I’d still like him to stay one of my best clients even after you’ve taken your sweet tush off onto your next escapade.”

“Cut,” Leandra told Ted, barely managing to get the word through her clenched teeth. “Janet, you and Ted go over to the lab where Howard’s working and catch what you can. There’s quite a bit of science involved in this. You never know what might come in useful.” She could feel her phone vibrating silently at her hip, where it was clipped to her pocket, but ignored it. She didn’t have to guess hard to figure it was Marian. “Then we’ll take a stroll through the horse barn and call it a day.”

The idea of ending shooting even an hour early clearly appealed to Janet. Leandra knew she and Paul Haas, the other crew member, were planning to drive down to Cheyenne for the weekend. Both in their midtwenties, they figured their free time would be a little more lively there than it would be if they remained in town. Ted, however, was staying put. He had a wife and a toddler back home in L.A. and, though he hadn’t said anything specific, Leandra had the impression that things weren’t entirely smooth between the couple. They’d all be back in Weaver on Sunday, though, in time to watch the show on television.

When Ted and the camera were no longer there as silent witnesses, Evan leaned his elbows on the metal rail between them. “You showing off that you’re the boss, Leandra?”

“When it comes to this, that’s exactly what I am.”

“As long as Marian lets you be.”

She stiffened, ignoring the jab. “Regardless, I don’t need you taking me to task in front of my people just because you occasionally find this situation a little less than comfortable.”

“Occasionally?” His eyebrows lifted. “Have you ever had a camera following you around all damn day? You don’t know what it’s like. You only know what it’s like from behind the lens.”

The fact that he was right didn’t help her beleaguered conscience any. Nor did the phone cease vibrating. She snatched it off her belt, flipping it open. “Yes?”

There was a brief pause, then a short, masculine laugh. “Judging by your voice, I can tell you’re happy to hear from me.”

It wasn’t Marian at all. “Jake.” Leandra greeted her ex-husband. Evan’s shadowy jaw cocked and he turned, stepping away from the rail. “I thought you were Marian calling. What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything had to be wrong?”

“You don’t usually call me when I’m on location.” Her ex-husband called about once a month, insisting on checking up on her. He’d been doing it for as long as they’d been apart. At first, it had been simply painful. Then, it had been…simply simple. That was Jake.

They might not have made it as a couple—particularly after Emi—but that didn’t mean that they didn’t care about each other.

“As it happens, I was calling to see how Ev was doing.”

Ev was twenty feet away from her now, joined by her father, who’d ambled out of the barn a few moments earlier. “Why? He’s a big boy.”

“Yeah, but he hates attention. You know that.”

“Then he shouldn’t have agreed to the shoot. I still don’t know why he did. I know he regrets it. It would have been a heck of a lot easier if you’d agreed to do this, Jake. I would never have had to come to Weaver. You didn’t even tell me your good excuse,” she reminded him. “Just that you had a reason.”

“I did. Do. So, put the man on the phone, would you? I need to talk to him.”

“Oh, so that’s why you called my phone,” she teased wryly as she crouched down and slipped through the horizontal space between the wide-set metal rails. “Not to talk to me after all, but to your good buddy.”

“At least from him I might get the straight scoop on how you’re really doing.” There was no joking in Jake’s voice.

Leandra stopped next to Evan and extended the tiny phone. “Here, spy man. Your accomplice wants to talk to you.” She jiggled the phone. “Jake.”

Evan took the phone. “Yo.”

Leandra grimaced and turned away.

Her father caught her gaze, his dark blue eyes unreadable. “You still talk to Jake?”

She shrugged and he fell into step with her as she walked away from Evan, heading toward the big, state-of-the-art barn. She didn’t really want to hear whatever report he might be giving Jake.

The fact that there might be any reporting at all annoyed her right down to her bones. She was having lustful thoughts about Evan and he was merely keeping tabs on her for Jake.

“Don’t worry, Dad. We’re not getting back together or anything.” There was too much water under that bridge. And Leandra wasn’t up to emotional entanglements, anyway.

“Jake was—is a good enough guy.” Jefferson’s low voice was wry. “Maybe not good enough for my girl, but—”

She tucked her hand under her father’s arm. At six-plus feet, he still towered over her. And though his blond hair had a good portion of silver now, it was still thick and often longer than his wife’s shoulder-length hair.

“Nobody would be good enough to suit you, Dad.”

“Me?” His lips quirked. “It’s your mother who’s the hard one to please.” He nodded his head toward the slender, dark-haired woman who was striding toward them. “Tell her, Em,” he said when she reached them.

“Tell her what?”

Leandra suffered a head-to-toe examination from her mother’s all-seeing brown eyes. She was ten years younger than Jefferson, and more than once had been mistaken for Leandra’s sister, rather than her mother. “He’s claiming that instead of him, it’s you who thinks no man is good enough for me.”

Emily smiled. “Well, we both know what a tale your father can spin. So, how much longer are you going to be following poor Evan around? You know we’re all going into town tonight to meet at Colbys, right?”

“Sarah told me.”

“I really wish you could stay out here with us.” Emily closed her arm around Leandra’s shoulder. “I know it’s not too practical during the week because of the drive, but what about the weekends?”

A part of Leandra wanted nothing more than to escape to the sanctuary of her childhood home. To sink into the comfort and care of parents whose love was a constant in her life. A bigger part of her resisted those very same things for fear that she’d never make her own way. “I’ll still be working on the weekends,” she told them truthfully. “We just won’t be actively following Evan.”

“Working on the weekends.” Emily sniffed wryly. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Because you grew up on Squire’s ranch,” Jefferson drawled. “And there ain’t no time off on a ranch.”

Emily tilted her head up, looking at her husband. “Oh, and you’re so different from your father, are you?”