Heir to Murder. Elle James

over acres and acres of grassland and rolling hills, all Noah could think was that he’d learned who his father was too late to get to spend time with the man. To get to know him.

      Reginald Adair was dead. Shot to death in his office almost four months ago, and the authorities still hadn’t identified a suspect in the murder case.

      Noah would never have the opportunity to know his father.

      The stallion had the bit between his teeth and ran like the wind, pounding the hard-packed earth, never seeming to tire.

      Noah let him run until they neared one of the streams running through Adair Acres, the one with the waterfall and the large pool, surrounded by evergreen trees and rocky ledges to stretch out on.

      When Noah pulled back on the reins, Diablo pulled harder against him, increasing his speed instead of decreasing.

      It became a battle of the wills between the man and the stallion.

      Noah dug his feet into the stirrups and pulled back as hard as he could on the reins until the horse’s bottom jaw nearly touched his chest. Not until then did he finally slow, dancing sideways, whinnying, air huffing from his nostrils in angry puffs.

      The big horse came to a jolting halt, reared up on his hind legs and pawed at the air.

      “Whoa, Diablo,” Noah said soothingly. He feared some of his anger and disturbed feelings had rubbed off on the horse.

      As the horse rose on his hind legs, Noah leaned forward, his feet in the stirrups.

      Diablo dropped to the ground, landing hard, jolting Noah in the saddle. Then he kicked up his hind legs, arched his back and bucked, trying to unseat the man as he dragged hard on the reins.

      “Whoa, fella.” Noah held his balance for the first eight seconds. When Diablo pulled a quick twist, however, Noah wasn’t ready and was sent flying through the air to land hard on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs.

      Diablo reared again and took off like a crazed animal, running hell-bent for leather back to the barn.

      When Noah could breathe again, he pushed to his feet and dusted off his jeans. “Damned horse.”

      Since it was a good thirty-minute hike from the barn, Noah debated starting back. One glance around at where he was and he changed his mind. The one place in the world that calmed his soul was this spot on the Adair ranch.

      The creek, filled with crystal-clear water, ran between the rolling hills, cutting through rocky crevices and long, flat pastures. And if he followed its path upstream, he’d find the waterfall and the naturally formed pool where he and his cousins—siblings—used to swim. With the air warming nicely, swimming was a distinct possibility, and it would delay his return to the ranch house, where he’d have to face up to his new role in the Adair family.

      And what that role was, he had no idea.

      Pushing all thoughts of his new status among Reginald Adair’s offspring, he hiked upstream to the pool, kicked off his boots, pulled his shirt over his head and shucked his jeans. Without giving much thought to how cold the water might be, he dove in.

      As soon as he hit the surface, the cool water shocked him out of his musings and reminded him he was alive and the pool was all his to enjoy without interruption. The media wouldn’t swarm him and his family wouldn’t be following him around to see what he would do next like some trick pony in a sideshow.

      It was just him, the chill water and sound of the cicadas chirping. He swam the length of the pool and back several times until his body warmed despite the coolness of the water. The sun found its way through the trees overhanging the rocky shoreline, speckling the water and making it shine like diamonds.

      Noah wished he could stay out there, away from everything. Away from having to make decisions about what he was now going to do with his life. Before the DNA test, he’d been content to work on the ranch as a ranch hand and operate his import-and-export business out of the guesthouse on Adair Acres.

      Knowing he had a controlling interest in the property, he wondered if he would be expected to do something other than work the ranch. He had never fit in with the corporate world and he didn’t want to live in a city.

      Hell, he had everything he’d ever wanted in life. Why did it have to cause him so much heartache and introspection? He wished he had someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t a member of the Adair family. An unbiased individual he could bounce his thoughts off of without worrying whether he was encroaching on their territory or stealing their inheritance.

      An image of Rachel Blackstone appeared in his thoughts. The pretty socialite with wavy dark brown hair that kissed her shoulders and a slim body with all the right curves sprang to mind. He’d spent weeks teaching her how to ride, always maintaining his distance, regarding himself as her social inferior. She was a member of San Diego’s social elite. A child of the privileged class. He had been the ranch hand, the poor cousin to the megarich Adairs.

      Rachel had never made him feel inferior. She’d always talked to him as an equal, asking questions about his life as if she really cared.

      For a few brief moments, he’d considered asking her out on a date. When he gave himself enough time to think it through, he realized it was ridiculous to think he could mingle in the same social sphere. He didn’t attend charity balls. He’d eaten out at nice restaurants, but not as nice as the ones she’d be used to. What did he have to offer as a ranch hand, making a living teaching rich girls how to ride horses and running his small business as a sideline?

      Now that he was one of the Adairs, would she see him differently? He was still the same person inside even if his name had changed.

      Noah struck out again across the pool, swimming hard, hoping if he wore himself out, he would be too tired to think so much.

      Head down, concentrating only on the next stroke, he was startled by a voice calling out his name.

      “Noah!”

      He stopped in the middle of the pool and glanced up at a rocky ledge.

      As if conjured by his thoughts, Rachel Blackstone sat on the smooth boulder, her slim, jean-clad legs dangling over the edge.

      Suddenly conscious of his state of undress, Noah sank low in the water. “How long have you been there?”

      “Long enough to admire a very handsome naked bottom gliding through clear water.” She winked.

      Heat rose up his neck and into his cheeks as he treaded water, sure to keep the lower part of his body well beneath the surface. “Sorry. I didn’t expect company.”

      She laughed, the sound joyful and as pure as the air. “I’m not sorry. I was enjoying the view.”

      “If you’d just turn your back, I’ll get dressed and we can be less awkward.”

      She raised her brows. “I don’t feel the least awkward.” When he remained where he was in the water without responding, she pouted. “Modesty is way overrated.” Then she turned her back. “I promise not to look.”

      Noah swam over to the shore and emerged on the bank next to the pile of his clothing. Still dripping, he tugged his jeans over his wet thighs. When he had them on, he collected his boots, shirt and belt and climbed onto the boulder where Rachel sat with her back to him. Her dark hair swung across the top of her shoulders and down her back as she flexed her shoulders and tipped her face toward the sun. “About done?” she called out.

      This wasn’t the first time they’d been to the pool together, but this was the first time she’d seen him without his clothes on and it had every blood cell in his body humming swiftly through his veins. He wanted to touch her but held back. She was far too beautiful and tempting. Rather than touch her with his hands, he leaned over her shoulder and whispered against her ear, “Close enough.”

      * * *

      Noah’s breath stirred tendrils of Rachel’s hair along the side of her neck. She spun around on her bottom,