Page 35 of The Playboy Meets His Match
“It’s smaller than the house,” he replied casually. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can stay.” She placed her things in a bright, cheerful bedroom with a brass bed and more Western art on the walls. Then she joined Jason on the porch. He switched off lights in the house and returned, bringing two chilled bottles of pop.
They sat close to the house with their backs only inches from the wall. A shaggy black-and-tan dog wandered up, sniffed Merry’s feet and moved to put his head on Jason’s knee.
“This is Tiger.”
“He doesn’t act like one.”
“If you see him in daylight, you’ll see he has stripes.” The dog curled at Jason’s feet and placed his head on Jason’s boot.
“I guess he does like you.”
“You didn’t give a rip whether I had dogs that liked me or not when you asked that first night. You were planning your escape, weren’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I was. I wanted to know what I might run into outside your house.”
“Now that I’ve had time to think about it—if Dorian did cause the blast tonight, you may not have been the target. Any computer disks we had could have been what he hoped to destroy.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Think about it. I met with my friends, but nothing was said about anyone stealing anything from Dorian’s computer. He didn’t even mention that anyone got into his computer. I didn’t mention disks. I asked Rob to take a disk to Sheriff Escobar. If Dorian followed me, he would know I didn’t go to the police. Besides, the files by themselves are not that convincing—it’s just that with the suspicious things Dorian has done, the computer files are more evidence that points to Dorian.”
“If all he intended to destroy were the computer files—why do it when we were home?”
“He might have wanted to send a message. He might have wanted to scare you off. Scare both of us off, maybe. If he knew which end of the house we were in, then all he wanted was to destroy my disks and my computer—which he did. But Rob and Keith already have copies.”
“It makes sense, Jason. Unless he knows nothing of the layout of your house.”
“I suspect whoever set the bomb knew the layout as well as we knew the layout of Wescott Oil. As a matter of fact, I had a party several months back and the Texas Cattleman’s Club members were out here. Dorian would know his way around here reasonably well.”
“Maybe I’m not in as much danger then.”
“Maybe, but let’s not take chances. Not for a while.”
As they talked quietly, she noticed Jason kept his pistol on a table beside him and all the time they talked, he was gazing into the dark night.
“Mr. Windover?” A fireman spoke from the dark shadows to the east of the porch, and Jason stood.
“I’m here.” He left her, crossing the porch and striding to the fireman to talk quietly to him.
“Jason,” she heard another man say and join the two of them. From the jeans and boots he wore, she judged the other man worked on the ranch. She could hear their low voices, catch phrases as they talked. Tiger had followed Jason and sat at his feet. Another dog meandered up to sit beside them.
Finally Jason shook hands with the fireman and thanked him again. As the man left, Jason turned to his employee and they talked in even lower voices. When they parted, Jason came back to join her.
“Let’s go inside.”
“What about keeping watch?”
“My men are spread out all around here. No one will get past them tonight. I promise—you’re safe here.”
He draped his arm across her shoulders, but then he paused and turned. “Ben,” he called.
A deep voice came out of the darkness, and she could see the cowboy yards away.
“Call the dogs and keep them with you.”
As a whistle broke the stillness, both dogs trotted away and Jason led her inside.
He closed and locked the door and then switched on a small lamp. As he crossed the room to her, the look in his eyes made her forget the events of the night. Her breath caught and each step closer he came, her pulse jumped another notch.
