Perfect Touch by Elizabeth Lowell Page B

spook.”
    â€œSara will help. She’s eager to look at all the Custer stuff stored at Fish Camp.” He looked at her with a challenge in his eyes. “Right?”
    â€œAs long as I’m on four feet rather than two for the trip,” she said, rising to the bait. “This looks like great country for riding.”
    â€œThe best,” Jay said. “I’ll provide the horse. Staying on it is your problem.”
    â€œYou don’t raise rodeo stock, do you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen I’ll look forward to it.”
    He smiled and said too softly for the others to hear, “So will I.”
    Suddenly she felt light-headed. Too much happening too soon. The robbery, the judge, Jay smiling at me like he wants to lick me from toes to forehead.
    And me really wanting to return the favor.
    Deliberately she called up memories of cow shit and isolation. The memories were so clear and deep, she could almost smell the dairy barn—which cooled her off immediately. Country was fine for a week or two. Any more and she would go crazy.
    â€œI didn’t come here to talk about cows, drunken cowhands, and the state of whichever pasture it is,” Liza said stiffly.
    Jay nodded. “You never did care about the business that kept you in diamonds and couture.”
    Henry faded back into the darkness, a man who knew what was coming and wanted no part of it.
    The sound of his retreating footsteps faded into silence.
    â€œIt was JD’s money,” Liza said. “He spent it the way he wanted to.” Her voice, like her spine, was rigid.
    â€œYeah, family business,” Barton added quickly.
    â€œYou both might have forgotten,” Jay said, “but cows are the family business.”
    â€œJust a part of it, and an outsized one at that.” Barton leaned forward. “If you’d just look at the plans I—”
    â€œWe had this discussion already,” Jay cut in. “The answer hasn’t changed. It’s time to put money back into the ranch rather than pumping it into blue-sky get-rich plans and couture clothing. Any other ‘family’ business you want to discuss?”
    â€œThe Custers are mine,” Liza said. “JD gave them to me.”
    â€œThe judge didn’t agree. Neither do I,” Jay said. “The jewelry, furs, clothes, cars, condo, and stipulated generous allowance were all in your name. The paintings weren’t.”
    Deliberately Sara concentrated on a large canvas over the cold fireplace. The painting depicted the ranch as seen from a place high on the less-famous back side of the Teton range. The painting was unmistakablyCuster’s work, bold strokes of color and energy visible from across the room. The art was calling to her, a siren song of discovery, but she didn’t get up.
    Beside her, Jay waited for Liza to get to the point. And he wondered why Barton was still in the fight. It was unlike his half brother, who had always taken the easy path paved by the Vermilion name and wealth.
    Something lit a fire under his tail, but I’m damned if I know what it is, Jay thought. Probably another get-rich-now scheme that he can’t wait to dump money into. Ranch money.
    Jay watched Liza squeeze Barton’s hand.
    Here it comes, Jay thought. Finally.
    â€œI looked you up,” Barton said, indicating Sara with a careless flick of his finger. “You sell junk. Hell, you don’t even sell real paintings, but you’re solid on wallpaper and kitsch.”
    Jay started to defend Sara but subsided after a slight shake of her head. He settled back on the couch and wished he had known her long enough to pull her onto his lap. She was intelligent, vibrant, and ready for round two.
    As Henry said, she’s a pistol. She won’t be like a lot of people who Barton overwhelms with his rude mouth and air of entitlement. Or even his charm, when he bothers to use it.
    â€œKitsch. Really?” Sara’s