His Defender. Stella Bagwell

      “No,” Isabella spoke up quickly. “I have to be going.”

      “That’s too bad,” Marina replied, “I’m making smoked ribs. One of Ross’s favorites. And chocolate cake.”

      “It sounds delicious,” Isabella told her. “But I really do have things to do in Aztec.”

      “You could drive back when you’re finished,” Ross quickly suggested, then wondered what the hell he thought he was doing. He didn’t need to be having dinner with this woman. Even if they managed to keep things strictly business, she was lethal. Spending time with her was going to keep him on a tightrope.

      Marina smiled at her boss’s suggestion.

      Isabella turned a hopeless expression on him. “I could drive back,” she reasoned. “But I’m not keen on driving the mountain road here to the ranch after dark. And it would be dark by the time we finished supper.”

      “You are right, señorita,” Marina spoke up. “The road is much too rough and dangerous for a woman to be driving after dark. You should stay here on the ranch. We have plenty of rooms.”

      It was all Ross could do to keep his jaw from dropping. Marina never took it upon herself to invite people to stay on the ranch. On top of that, she was usually slow to warm up to strangers. But here she was treating Isabella better than a long-lost relative.

      “Thank you, Marina, but I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you,” Isabella assured her. “My motel room has most everything I need.”

      Ross looked at her in surprise. “You’re staying in a motel?”

      Isabella made a palms-up gesture. “Yes. Why? Is there something wrong with that?”

      “Well, no. I just—Neal said something about you going home to the reservation. I thought you were staying there.”

      “While I’m working on your case I need to be in this area. And it’s too far to drive from here to the reservation every day,” she explained.

      The last thing he needed was to have Isabella Corrales underfoot, Ross thought. But a motel room was costly. He didn’t want her to be out that much money. Not on his account. And she did make for a very pretty decoration.

      “Did Neal make any arrangements to pay your expenses while you worked for me?” Ross asked her.

      Isabella shook her head. “No. But don’t worry, I’ll tack it on the final bill,” she added teasingly.

      With sudden decision, he said, “You can’t continue to stay in a motel. With this big house full of empty rooms, it would be senseless. Once you finish your business in Aztec this afternoon, pack your bags and drive back out here to the ranch. Marina will have everything ready for you.”

      The cook’s brown face creased into a satisfied grin. “That’s right.”

      Stay here on Ross Ketchum’s ranch? Isabella asked herself. She’d be putting herself in the way of danger. Not the sinister kind that had taken place out on T Bar K range. No, she was thinking of a more subtle sort of danger. The kind that sneaked up on a person’s heart.

      “But I need—”

      “A phone, a fax, a computer? The ranch has all of those things,” Ross assured her.

      “I—” she looked awkwardly at Marina who was waiting to hear her decision. “I think I need to discuss this with Ross. Would you excuse us, Marina?”

      With a nod of understanding, the cook left the room. Isabella turned back to Ross, who was studying her with a bemused expression.

      “All right. What’s the matter?” he asked before she could utter a word.

      “I’ll tell you what’s the matter,” she clipped out concisely. “Yesterday you didn’t even want me as your lawyer. And not more than fifteen minutes ago, you made it very clear you didn’t have time for me. That doesn’t sound like a man who’s eager to have me staying in his home.”

      As his eyes lazily scrolled her face, his arms crossed his broad chest. “I admit it’s bad business to put a beautiful woman in close proximity to me. But I’m making an exception with you.”

      Close proximity to him? As far as she was concerned, it would definitely be bad business. But that didn’t stop her from wondering what it would feel like to have those big, strong arms circled around her or to have her cheek resting against his broad chest.

      “Oh?” she asked. “Because you’ve finally realized you’re in a bit of a jam with the law?”

      To her disgust he chuckled. “No. I’m making an exception because you’re not my type. So you’ll be perfectly safe in my company. And I won’t be threatened by yours.”

      Not his type. Isabella should be relieved. Instead, she felt insulted. Lifting her chin, she said, “I appreciate your offer. But I don’t think it would be wise to…stay here on the T Bar K.”

      His brows lifted with an innocence that belied the glint in his eyes. “Why not? You planned to do some investigating, didn’t you?”

      Her heart continued to thud at a pace that was quickly draining her. “Yes.”

      “It pretty much stands to reason that whoever framed me is here on this ranch. Don’t you agree?”

      “Yes. But—”

      “But nothing,” he countered. “This is where you need to be doing your hunting, Isabella. Not in Aztec.”

      Reluctantly, she had to agree that he was right. Staying here on the ranch would make her job far easier and possibly give her some insights into the case that she might not get elsewhere. Besides, it would be foolish to pay a bunch of money for a motel room when this huge house was virtually empty.

      “You know, you’re making a good point,” she said after a moment. “And besides, I’ve realized something else.”

      “What’s that?” he asked with a smug smile.

      “You’re not my type, either.”

      The smile on his face deepened and instead of taking hold of her elbow, he curled his arm around the back of her waist.

      “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door.”

      Oh, she was slipping badly, she thought. Not only had the man talked her into staying on his ranch, he’d also managed to turn her knees to rubber. She was going to have to toughen up if she ever expected to survive this job.

      Later that evening, Isabella arrived back at the T Bar K with her bags and an uneasy feeling she couldn’t shake. The more she’d thought about it these past few hours, the more she’d realized it had been a mistake to accept Ross’s invitation. But it was too late to change things now without looking ungrateful.

      Marina met her at the door and the older woman’s smile chased away some of Isabella’s misgivings.

      “Do you have more bags?” she asked, inclining her head to the three nylon duffel bags on the porch floor. “I’ll get one of the men to help you.”

      “No. This is it, Marina. If you’ll just show me where to take them, I can manage.”

      Marina bent down and picked up two of the bags. “You get that one, chica, and follow me,” she ordered.

      Isabella stepped into the house behind the cook and followed her through the massive living area, then down a wide hallway similar to the one that had led to Ross’s room, only this corridor lay in an opposite direction.

      “This is where you stay,” Marina told her as she pushed open a door to her right. “This was Victoria’s room. Pretty, no?”

      It was a beautiful room filled with varnished pine furniture and decorated in shades of pink, beige and white. Sliding glass doors looked toward the west and a wide mesa filled with gray