The Return Of David Mckay. Ann Evans

moment and she didn’t try to hide it. “Right now your grandmother sees this trip as the most important thing in her life. Just for a little while, why don’t you try to pretend this isn’t all about you?”

      He said nothing. His gaze moved over her face, and she felt oddly unsettled under his scrutiny.

      With his grandmother still out of earshot, he said, “I don’t really want to fight with you, Addy, and I’m sure you mean well. I’m just not willing to take chances with Gran’s health.”

      “Neither am I,” Addy tossed back. “I think I know her physical limitations. Probably better than you do. Where were you when she had heart surgery last year?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. Out of the country on business.”

      She heard his breathing change and knew she’d gone too far. But really, what right did he have to act as though she didn’t give a damn about Geneva’s health?

      The silence went to foolish lengths, and Addy began to feel a touch of embarrassment and guilt. Hadn’t Geneva once told her that she’d deliberately instructed her doctors not to notify David about her heart surgery?

      Oh Lord, she couldn’t remember. But if he hadn’t known, why didn’t he say something to defend himself now? Why didn’t he tell her she was out of line? At the very least, why didn’t he stop looking at her like that, as though she was someone he’d never seen before?

      Annoyed with herself as much as him, Addy squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. If she let him get to her after less than a day on the trail, two weeks was going to seem like a lifetime.

      Where are you, Dani, when I need your lecture about being able to handle this man?

      “Listen,” she said and then took a deep breath. “Clover’s gait is the smoothest in our stable, and she’s got a soft mouth, so your grandmother won’t have to do more than crook a finger to get her to respond. I’ve built in downtime in camp so that she doesn’t exhaust herself. You and I could probably make it to the canyon in less than a week, but we’ll take this much slower. I’ve packed extra cushioning for her bedroll and I have a few other surprises for her that ought to make things easier.”

      “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything,” he said, and this time she heard no telltale trace of mockery in his tone.

      “I’ve tried to. In spite of the way everything turned out for…for us, I’ve always remained very fond of your grandmother.”

      She started to pull away, but he reached across the distance that separated them, halting her with one hand over hers on Sheba’s reins. “Addy…”

      She waited, braced for some cutting remark. And yet, for a moment it was the touch of his hand on hers that she was most aware of. She felt suddenly filled with a sharp, nameless anxiety.

      “I appreciate your efforts,” he said at last.

      She moistened her lips, wondering if her cheeks were as pink as they felt. “I’ll do my part,” she promised, her voice taking on a brisk note to keep from revealing her surprise. “You try to do yours.”

      “What’s my part?” he asked, releasing his hold to sit back in the saddle.

      “For your grandmother’s sake, pretend to have a good time.”

      He laughed. “It would be a lot easier if you hadn’t given me a mount who tries to drop his nose every five minutes to crop grass.”

      “Don’t let him. You’re the one in charge.”

      He cocked his head to one side and favored her with a look that made a finger of curling heat spread through her insides. “Really?” he remarked. “I thought you were, trail boss.”

      She pressed her lips together and glanced down, finding sudden interest in threading Sheba’s reins through her fingers. Fortunately Geneva saved her from having to come up with an appropriately clever response. Twisting around to glance their way, she asked, “What are you two up to back there?”

      The moment passed. In a strong, steady voice, Addy replied, “David was just telling me he’s getting saddle sore. We’d better take a break and let him stretch out the kinks.”

      THE TRUTH WAS, BY THE end of the day when they stopped to set up camp by a winding stream, David wasn’t saddle sore. He was in agony.

      His neck and shoulders were on fire. A hitching pain knifed into his side, and his butt felt as though a boxer had used it for a punching bag. He might not have forgotten how to ride, but he’d definitely forgotten how much a couple thousand pounds of horseflesh between your legs could realign your skeletal system.

      Not surprisingly, Addy didn’t seem to be suffering any discomfort. David was irritated to witness the agility with which she slid off her horse and began tethering the animals. Gran didn’t seem much affected, either. She slipped off Clover before anyone could furnish a hand to help her down.

      David dismounted with an inward sigh of relief and a stretch of weariness. He was tired. Tired of trail dust and the monotonous thud of horse’s hooves. Tired of fielding questions and solving problems for his office that should have been handled in person.

      Most of all, he was tired of watching Addy’s shapely little behind rock gently back and forth in her saddle.

      He had tried to tell himself that he was probably just bored. There was no reason for that slight, sensual movement of hers to take him by the throat this way. None at all.

      And definitely no reason for him to still be remotely curious about the relationship between Addy and Brandon O’Dell. Close friends? New lovers? What?

      Gran had been no help in shedding any light. One of the few times he’d managed to get her out of Addy’s earshot to ask, she’d responded with a shrug and said he’d have to ask Addy himself. Gran could be the sphinx when she wanted to be.

      Removing his Stetson, David ran one hand across the back of his neck. Sunburned, probably.

      “I’ll take care of the horses if you’ll put up the tent,” Addy told him. He nodded agreement, and she tossed back the waterproof cover over Sheba’s pack to withdraw a small hammer and the nylon bag holding the tent, stakes and struts.

      “What can I do to help?” Geneva piped in. “And don’t tell me to rest.”

      “We’ll need a fire,” Addy said. “Scout around for deadwood and a few small twigs to use for kindling. I brought some homemade chicken and dumplings that will need to be heated. And we’ll need hot water to wash up later.”

      Geneva set off on her assignment while Addy began unsaddling the horses and mules. David glanced around the spot she’d chosen as their campsite.

      She knew what she was doing. It was pretty and practical, a sheltered circle of large boulders and pines with a level grassy area ideal for the tent. The nearby stream was meandering, the current so sluggish and smooth that the reflection of the cottonwood trees along the bank seemed enameled on its surface.

      It was early yet. The sun still held a bright, burnished shimmer overhead and wouldn’t set for at least an hour.

      He shook out the tent, which seemed to be one of those fancy dome-type ones that took a minimum of work to erect once you got the hang of it.

      The first time he smacked one of the stakes with the hammer, it bounced straight back at him and almost took out an eye. Determined, he attacked the hard ground with the hammer’s head until he’d dug a hole. Maybe there was a better way, but he wasn’t about to ask for directions.

      Thirty minutes later the little clearing had been turned into a neat and orderly campsite. The horses and mules were hobbled and munching contentedly on grain. His grandmother was stirring a pot of dumplings over the fire. Indian blankets had been spread. Addy was in the tent, laying out pads and bedrolls and affixing a battery-powered lantern to one of the tent struts.

      Glancing