The Calamity Janes: Lauren. Sherryl Woods

in Winding River,” she said, leaving out the fact that there were quite a few people in Hollywood who wouldn’t shed any tears if she disappeared forever. She’d discovered that jealousy and greed could turn friend to enemy overnight in the film business. Actresses she’d considered friends had bailed when she won a coveted role. Award nominations stirred envy, but that was almost the least of it. Everything had been a competition, with winners and losers.

      Glad to be away from all that, she took an appreciative sip of the coffee. “Thanks. I needed this.” The talk with her agent had used up all Lauren’s reserves of energy.

      “Not usually up this early?” Wade asked, the disdain back in his voice.

      She sighed. For a minute there she’d almost believed they could make a fresh start. Instead, it had apparently been a lull before a new barrage of insults.

      “Always up this early,” she corrected, determined not to escalate the fight. Let Wade do that, if he couldn’t stop himself. “But I’ll never get used to it. I’m a night owl by nature.”

      “Hard to be a night owl on a ranch. Too many chores have to be done at daybreak.”

      “And I grew up doing most of them,” she said. “I might not like morning, but I follow through on my responsibilities.”

      He seemed duly chastised by the rebuke. “Look, Miss...”

      “Lauren will do.”

      He nodded. “Okay, then, Lauren. We obviously got off on the wrong foot yesterday. And it sounds as if we’re pretty darn close to doing the same thing again. How about if we start fresh with no preconceived notions? I’m Wade, by the way.”

      Given the fact that he wasn’t going to go away, Lauren was more than willing to meet him halfway. They were going to have to work together. It made more sense to be friends than enemies. She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Wade.”

      He took her outstretched hand in a grasp that was warm and all-too-brief. Even that quick brush of callused fingers across softer skin was enough to send a jolt of awareness through her. Work-roughened hands had always been more appealing to her than the manicured hands of most of her male costars. Hands with the texture of sandpaper could bring the skin alive. Just the thought was enough to make her tremble the way Midnight had earlier.

      Wade studied her with a knowing look. “Cold?”

      “No. I’m fine,” she said, embarrassed at having been caught reacting to his touch. “So, what’s the plan? I assume you have one.”

      “Grady says I should let you try whatever you like with the horses, as long as you don’t get yourself killed. Since that’s not a notion that’s real popular with me either, how about going for a ride with me? Let me see how you handle yourself on a horse. Maybe I’ll be more reassured than I was yesterday.”

      She chafed at the test, but she understood it. If she were in his position, she’d do the same thing. And since it was clear that Grady had tried to smooth things over, she owed it to him to give Wade at least a passing show of respect.

      Still, she couldn’t resist a taunt. “Shall I take Midnight?” she inquired innocently.

      He regarded her soberly, his gray eyes cool and assessing. “Only if you don’t care about coming back,” he said, not giving away by so much as a blink whether he was serious.

      “Then I’ll save him for next time,” she said. “Since you know the animals better than I do, you choose one today. And don’t go with the slowest nag in the barn, or I’ll make you regret it.”

      “How about we compromise?” he suggested, though it looked as if the word stuck in his craw.

      “Now there’s a novel idea. I’m surprised you’re familiar with the concept.”

      To her surprise, he winked at her. “Oh, you’d be amazed at the things I’ll do given the right incentive.”

      She laughed. “That must mean Grady’s offered you a huge bonus for putting up with me.”

      “Not a dime,” he insisted. “But he did lead me to believe that you weren’t a tenderfoot and that I owed it to you and the ranch to give you a fair chance.”

      “Okay, then, what’s the compromise?”

      “You pick your own horse, subject to my okay.”

      Lauren nodded. “Fair enough.” She’d ridden almost every horse in the Blackhawk barn at one time or another.

      A half hour later, they’d saddled up. Once Wade had explained that they might as well ride up into the hills to see if they could locate some wild horses that had been reported, Lauren abandoned her plan to go into town. Instead, she took the time to pack a couple of thick ham-and-cheese sandwiches and some of Gina’s extraordinary cheesecake along with a thermos of iced tea. If Wade thought he was going to put her through her paces, she was at least going to be well fortified for the experience.

      “Maybe, if you’re as good as Grady says, you can talk those mustangs into coming back with us,” he taunted when she returned from the kitchen with their lunch. “I’m always looking for new stock at a good price. Can’t beat free.”

      “Very amusing. I think Grady may have oversold my skill, if he has you believing I’m capable of sweet-talking a few wild stallions down into the corral.”

      Wade’s gaze traveled over her from head to foot in an assessment deliberately meant to rile her. “You could always practice on me, see if you can tame me.”

      Lauren’s heart thumped erratically at the suggestion. “Something tells me that you’re tougher than any horse I might tangle with.”

      “Probably so, which is part of the challenge,” he agreed, then grinned as he shoved a battered Stetson on his head. “Let’s ride.”

      He set off at a sedate pace that Lauren had no difficulty at all matching, but the instant they hit an open stretch of land, he urged his horse to a full gallop. As if that were going to intimidate her, she thought with amusement as she urged her horse ahead of his.

      His grin spread. “So that’s the way it’s going to be,” he shouted, shooting past her.

      The rush of the wind, the exhilaration of the challenge, the taunting of an infuriating man—all of it made Lauren almost giddy with pure delight. She felt vibrantly alive for the first time in months. No, in years.

      Riding had always been that way for her, but this was even more so. Having Wade’s gaze on her, watching as doubt turned to respect, seeing an unwilling flare of heat replace the chilly disdain that he’d expressed in more ways than one, it reminded her of the first day she’d walked onto a movie set.

      Everyone from the director to the cameraman and the grips had assumed that she was yet another of the producer’s whims. Heck, even she hadn’t been convinced that she had any right to be on that soundstage with an Oscar-winning actor and a woman whose every film had been a critical success, if not a box-office blockbuster.

      But Lauren had taken the job seriously. She had her lines down cold, and ignoring the festival the butterflies were having in her stomach, she went to work. She had played that tiny scene with every bit of emotion and passion that she could call upon.

      At the end of the take, the soundstage had been dead silent for a full minute before applause had erupted. Never before—or since—had any applause been as sweet. That her first performance had been recognized with an Academy Award nomination had been the icing on the cake for Lauren. Never had any success felt as hard-won.

      Until today—right here, right now—with Wade Owens slowly beginning to relax, with the judgment in his eyes easing and fire replacing ice as his gaze met hers. He drew back on the reins, and his horse slowed.

      “Ready for some lunch?” he asked as casually as if the last two hours had been no more than a friendly ride in the park.