Mama hadn’t done much actual work, unless you count sitting on the fence and telling the rest of us how we were doing everything wrong.

At the corral, I’d filled them in on the details of Jeb’s late-night call, omitting the specifics of what I’d been doing in my bedroom just before the phone rang.

“What’d Carlos say?’’ Marty asked.

“Not a thing,’’ I said. “I ended up walking the phone out to my porch, but you know how small my cottage is. Jeb and I only talked for a few minutes, but I know Carlos heard every word on my end. When we rang off, I remember I called Jeb by name.’’

“You can be sure Carlos heard you. That man doesn’t miss a thing.’’ Clucking her tongue, Mama shook her head. “Too bad, too. It finally seemed like Carlos and you were becoming a real couple.’’

“Nothing happened, except Mace got a call from an old boyfriend,’’ Marty said. “Carlos won’t treat that like it’s the end of the world.’’

Maddie raised her eyebrows at our little sister. “Really? There’s already bad blood between Jeb and Carlos. Don’t you remember how they went round and round over Mace, the summer Mama found her corpse?’’

“That poor man in my convertible trunk had a name, girls. Please don’t call him my corpse.’’

When I told Mama and my sisters about the phone call, I didn’t add that when I finished talking to Jeb, Carlos was asleep. Or pretending he was. I tiptoed into the bathroom for a quick shower. When I finished, he was gone. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

Now, here was Jeb, climbing from the driver’s seat of his truck. We watched as he swung out a long, lean leg. One foot, in a worn Ariat boot, hit the ground. The other soon followed. When he stood up and adjusted those tight jeans over the long lines of his body, my traitorous heart skipped a beat. Dammit.

I heard a low whistle beside me. “Say what you will about the man. He still looks like sex on a stick.’’

“Mama!’’ The three of us gasped at once.

“I can’t help it, girls. I’m only stating the obvious.’’

A frown creased Maddie’s brow. “Just how close did he say the two of you would be working?’’

“Not that close. Once he delivers the cattle, I bet Jeb leaves his ranch hands behind to see to what the movie people need.’’

“Riiight,’’ Maddie said. “With Kelly Conover and Jesse Donahue here on the set …’’

“Not to mention the beautiful Mace Bauer …’’ Marty added.

“… still mooning over her long-ago affair with Jeb; star-crossed lovers since they were teenagers.’’ Maddie clasped a hand over her heart, or at least where her heart would be if she had one.

I didn’t want to give Maddie the satisfaction of looking, but my eyes defied my brain. A teenager no more, Jeb was all man as he unloaded his cows. Brangus, a mixture between Angus cattle and the heat-tolerant Brahman, were big and beefy. They looked nothing like the rangy half-wild creatures known as Florida Cracker cattle, which would have been true to the period of Patrick Smith’s book. Then again, not much about the movie seemed true to the book.

I could feel Maddie’s eyes on me as I watched Jeb. She took her hand from her heart to wag a finger. “Mark my words: That man will stick around, and that’ll mean trouble for you.’’

_____

Greg Tilton was on horseback out in the pasture, rehearsing for his scene. He hadn’t lied when he said he was experienced. His hand was easy on the reins, and he had a good seat on the Quarter horse we’d saddled for him.

He was cast as Toby’s father. The scene would have him racing at a gallop to the corral, where Toby would be waiting. Tilton was costumed in frontier garb, Florida cowman style: lace-up boots to keep out the snakes, a slouchy hat to repel the rain, and a braided leather cow whip coiled on his saddle.

Of course, he should have been riding a little Cracker horse, like in the book. But Tilton was a big, muscular guy. He’d dwarf such a small horse. Plus, the horse’s gait is like a pogo stick. Bouncing around the saddle like a little kid’s jack-in-the-box wouldn’t befit a movie hero.

Pulling up at the corral, he swung easily out of the saddle. Mama and my sisters were a distance away at the supply trailer, supposedly measuring out horse feed for the evening. But I saw them whispering and pointing. I hoped none of them asked Tilton for an autograph.

As everyone stood around waiting for lights, camera, and director to be ready, Tilton leaned against the rustic fence with the horse’s reins in one hand, his hat in the other. He looked posed: The Florida Cowhunter on the Open Range.

Suddenly, a warm breath of air on the back of my neck distracted me from stargazing. I caught the faintest scent of sweat and hay, with just a hint of cow manure. I knew exactly who was there.

“Boo!’’

My heart pitter-patted, dammit.

“Your cattle all settled?’’ I asked.

“Easy breezy,’’ Jeb answered. “How’d you know it was me?’’

“I’m psychic.’’

He came around to face me. “How about the horses? Any trouble?’’

“Not unless you count the body we found draped over their corral yesterday.’’

“Yeah, I heard about that. Guess somebody wanted to make sure he’d be seen.’’

“I wish they’d have done it someplace else. People are starting to think Mama and I are some kind of Grim Reapers.’’

“This is the second murder y’all have been mixed up in, right?’’

“I wouldn’t say we’re ‘mixed up’ in this one. We were just unlucky enough to stumble on the body. And it’s the fourth.’’

Jeb took a step backward and whistled. “Four? Now, you know I love being around you, Mace. But maybe you shouldn’t stand so close.’’

I’d have been offended, but his smile took any meanness out of the jibe. And what a smile it was: white teeth in a face tanned by hard work in the Florida outdoors; sunlight dancing in the golden flecks of his eyes. There went my heart again. It had a mind of its own, dammit.

“Hey, you’re the one who came over here to me.’’ I put my hand in the center of his chest and gave a gentle push. “I don’t recall issuing you an invitation to stand close.’’

He grasped my wrist, and pulled my hand tighter against his chest. I couldn’t help but notice the heat of his body, and how lean and hard the muscles felt beneath the snap buttons of his cowboy shirt. I remembered how easily those buttons popped open.

Jeb leaned toward me. His lips were inches from my ear, his breath hot against my cheek. “Since when do old friends like us need an invitation?’’

Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Mama and my sisters. The three of them scowled at me like Puritans preparing to pin on a scarlet letter. I turned, but not before I saw Maddie mouth You’re crazy. Mama shook her head at me. Marty bit her lip and looked worried.

As soon as I got the chance, I was going to tell them there was nothing to worry about. Yes, I was still physically attracted to Jeb. He was my first lover, and he was still flat-out gorgeous. But he was also more trouble than he was worth. And I was in love with Carlos. I’d never risk what I had with him for a quick roll in the hay.

“Back off, cowpoke.’’ I pushed him, hard enough to show I meant it this time.

Surprise played across his face. I was a little hurt I didn’t see disappointment there, too. I wanted him to give up on me, but not that easily.

“I thought we were friends.’’ His mouth drooped down at the corners.

“ ‘Friends’ being the operative word. I’m involved with someone, Jeb.’’

“That Spanish cop from Miamuh. Still?’’

“Yeah. His name’s Carlos. And he’s Cuban, though he speaks Spanish.’’

“It’s serious?’’

I thought that over for a moment. An image from last night came into my mind, of us spooned together in my bed. A warm feeling washed over me. Desire, yes, but contentment, too.

“Yeah,’’ I said, “we’re serious.’’

“Lucky guy.’’