Free Black Gold by Ruby Laska Page A

professional ethics or something."
    Regina winced. She had to make this right. Kissing Chase Warner had been completely out of line, but she'd never done anything of the sort before and she couldn't bear for him to think otherwise.
    "It isn't what you think," she said.
    "No, obviously not. I'm sure you're not used to guys turning you down. I'm sorry you had to bring out the big guns like that, especially since it doesn't change my answer." He shook his head, frowning. "Jeez, I guess I have been more hard up than I realized."
    He was all the way down before Regina even got her foot on the first rung. With a sinking heart, Regina cast around for an apology. Obviously, he wanted nothing to do with her. She deserved that. But she still had to prove to him that she wasn't simply trying to use him.
    She put her other foot on the rung below, then took another step gingerly. "Wait," she called, her face up against the tree trunk, afraid to turn around lest she lose her balance. "Please, don't go."
    But there was no answer. He was probably all the way back to the bunk house by now, off to tell his friends about the crazy woman who'd attacked him.
    "Damn it," she muttered, her hand almost slipping off the rung above. Tears sprung to her eyes. She wasn't dressed for a quick escape. And now she had no choice but to tramp back through the weeds by herself because there was no way her singing cowboy was going to pick her up and carry her, not after she'd flung herself at him.
    Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes, obscuring her vision. She put her foot down on the rung below and it slipped off the edge, and her hands scrabbled for the handhold she couldn't see. She shrieked as, for a long second, she was suspended by one hand and the toe of one useless shoe—and then she fell.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Chase Warner had been several yards down the path when he heard her shriek. He ran back toward the tree, his heart in his throat. What he been thinking, leaving her there? She was liable to break her neck, wearing that ridiculous getup. And, oh God, there she was, crumpled lifeless in the grass at the foot of the tree, her skirt hiked up her motionless legs—
    She sat up. Bits of twigs and grass clung to her hair, and there was a grass stain on her blouse. Her jacket was pulled halfway off one arm, the fabric torn. But she was alive.
    "Oh holy hell," he said, more angrily than he intended. She struggled to her feet, looking more like a newborn colt than anything, and started furiously brushing off her clothes.
    "I'm fine ," she muttered, her cheeks stained bright pink.
    "What did you land on? What about your neck? Your spine?"
    She backed away from him, bumping into the tree. Her blue eyes were shiny and wet.
    "Are you crying ? Oh sweet Mary, you're crying," he said, and then bunched his hands into fists because, if he didn't, he was going to take her into his arms again just to make her stop. And that would make him twice the fool, wouldn't it? Falling for her feminine wiles not just once but also on the rebound? He should've run and kept running. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she'd somehow faked that fall just to reel him back in.
    "Oh," she gasped, her face going white.
    His heart skipped a beat for the second time. "What? What is it? Your back? Your leg? Do you feel faint?"
    He reached out to support her, convinced she was about to pass out from the pain. She held up one hand to stop him, her expression mute with horror.
    One of her long, red nails had broken, the crescent tip barely connected to the rest of the nail.
    Thank God he hadn't touched her. Chase let his arms fall to his sides. "Your... nail? You're crying over a goddamn broken fingernail ?"
    She stared at him, lips parted in horror. As he watched, her face crumpled, her chin wobbling and her long lashes blinking away tears. "I'm not crying," she said in a wavering voice. "And if I was , it would be because you—you're the most—you don't even—"
    And then she