Fresh irritation rolled through her. Sam Bridger would be in control of her life—for now. But in a little over a month from now, she would be free to live as she pleased. Libby vowed that from this day forward, no man would ever controlher life again.
Chapter Two
Sam Bridger stood outside the Vail Valley Jet Center, the executive terminal at the Eagle County Airport, watching a sleek white Citation taxi toward the gate and brake to a halt.
The stairs were put in place, and the door swung open. A well-dressed blonde emerged from the plane, the only passenger aboard. Sam chafed with annoyance as he watched her descend the metal stairs, the spoiled city girl he would be babysitting for the next four weeks.
During the summer, when they opened the ranch to visitors as a means of making extra money, Julio Santiago, his foreman, or Big John Coolwater, his top ranch hand, usually picked up passengers for the hour ride from the airport back toCoffee Springs.
Unlike today, guests usually arrived at the regular passenger terminal, not the fancy private-jet runway. Most of the people with that kind of money flew in during the winter to skiin nearby Vail.
Unfortunately, this was Martin Hale’s niece, and Sam considered Marty a friend. In accordance with the man’s dying request, Sam had agreed to adhere to the terms Marty set out in the video he’d sent. In exchange for employing his niece, the Bridger Ranch would receive fifty thousand dollars, a sum Sam couldn’t afford to turn down.
Not after last year’s drought, the drop in beef prices, and the grass fire that had destroyed two of his best grazing pastures.
Sam would have agreed to Marty’s request without the money. No way would he have refused a friend’s last wish. But Martin Hale wasn’t a fool, and Sam was sure the man knew all about the ranch’s financial situation. The money was Marty’s way of leavinghim a bequest.
Sam watched the petite woman with the beautiful face and gorgeous long hair descend the last of the metal stairs and walk toward him across the tarmac. In a short skirt and matching jacket, she was stunning, with shapely legs, a tiny waist, and a full bosom, the kind of woman who could make a man hard just bylooking at him.
Unexpected arousal tightened his jeans, and his annoyance grew. Sam wondered if he had made a bargainwith the devil.
Chapter Three
Libby looked up to see a tall man in worn cowboy boots and jeans, his blue denim shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing muscular forearms. One of the ranch hands, she was sure. Good-looking, she had to admit, with a chest that threatened the snaps on the front of his shirt.
His hair was a shiny dark gold and long enough to curl over the back of his collar. He had a solid jaw and a cleft in his chin. Sun lines crinkled at the corners of his dark brown eyes.
He was better than good-looking, she thought, adjusting her first impression. But—she reminded herself—he was a man. That was reason enough to block him from her thoughts.
She waved as he approached, and he stopped right in front of her.
“Ms. Hale?”
“That’s right. I assume you work at the ranch. If you’re here to pick me up, my luggage is over there.” She pointed a pink, freshly manicured nail toward a stack of leather-trimmed bags on a rolling cart, everything she might need for a month in near isolation in some wilderness outpost.
His gaze followed hers to the cart, and one dark gold eyebrow went up. “All ofthat’s yours?”
She frowned. “If you don’t think I brought enough, I can call a friend, have her UPS a few more things.”
“Oh, I think you brought enough.” He turned toward the valet working behind the concierge counter. “We could use your help over here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take Ms. Hale’s luggage out to my truck. It’s parked right in front.”
“Yes, sir.” The young valet couldn’t seem to move fast enough. The ranch hand did have a commanding way about him. Uncle Marty had spoken with the same kind of authority. People did whatever he asked without question. She knew it was more than just the millions he was worth, though that clearly added tothe motivation.
A memory arose of the warmth in her uncle’s eyes whenever they were together and the crooked smile she had come to love. Her eyes misted. Libby blinked away any hint of tears. It was time to move forward, and that was exactly what sheintended to do.
Four weeks from now, her life could begin in earnest, she thought as she followed the valet pushing the cart out of the terminal, across the sidewalk to a big black Dodge Ram truck. The weather was warm, but the air was dry, not humid as it had been in Manhattan, and at this altitude, notnearly as hot.
She watched as the tall blond ranch hand started grabbing luggage off the cart and tossing it into the backof the pickup.
“Be careful, that’s Louis Vuitton! It was a gift, customized with my initials.”
He clamped his hands on a pair of narrow hips, and his eyes darkened. “You want to load it yourself?”
“Well, no, of course not, but—”
