debt made to finance a trip
she hadn't wanted! All she'd wanted had been time alone in a quiet place, a
chance to lick her wounds and finish recovering from a brutal marriage, but her
father had thought resuming a life of trips and shopping with her friends would
be better, and she'd gone along with him because it had made him happy.
"I didn't even want to go," she
said numbly, and to her horror tears began welling in her eyes. She didn't want
to cry; she hadn't cried in years, except once when her father died, and she
especially didn't want to cry in front of Rafferty. But she was tired and off
balance, disturbed by the phone call from Roger that morning, and this just
seemed like the last straw. The hot tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
"God, don't," he muttered, wrapping
his arms around her and holding her to him, her face pressed against his chest.
It was like a knife in him to see those tears on her face, because in all the
time he'd known her, he'd never before seen her cry. Michelle Cabot had faced
life with either a laugh or a sharp retort, but never with tears. He found he
preferred an acid tongue to this soundless weeping.
For just a moment she leaned against him, letting
him support her with his hard strength. It was too tempting; when his arms were
around her, she wanted to forget everything and shut the world out, as long as
he was holding her. That kind of need frightened her, and she stiffened in his
arms, then pulled free.
She swiped her palms over her cheeks, wiping
away the dampness, and stubbornly blinked back the remaining tears.
His voice was quiet. "I thought you
knew."
She threw him an incredulous look before
turning away. What an opinion he had of her! She didn't mind his thinking she
was spoiled; her father had spoiled her, but mostly because he'd enjoyed doing
it so much. Evidently John not only considered her a common whore, but a stupid
one to boot.
"Well, I didn't. And whether I knew or
not doesn't change anything. I still owe you the money."
"We'll see my lawyer tomorrow and have
the deed drawn up, and that'll take care of the damned debt. I'll be here at
nine sharp, so be ready. A crew of men will be here in the morning to take care
of the fencing and get the hay out to the herd."
He wasn't going to give in on that, and he
was right; it
was
too much for her, at least right now. She couldn't
do it all simply because it was too much for one person to do. After she
fattened up the beef cattle and sold them off, she'd have some capital to work
with and might be able to hire someone part-time.
"All right. But keep a record of how
much I owe you. When I get this place back on its feet, I'll repay every
penny." Her chin was high as she turned to face him, her green eyes remote
and proud. This didn't solve all her problems, but at least the cattle would be
cared for. She still had to get the money to pay the bills, but that problem
was hers alone.
"Whatever you say, honey," he
drawled, putting his hands on her waist.
She only had time for an indrawn breath
before his mouth was on hers, as warm and hard as she remembered, his taste as
heady as she remembered. His hands tightened on her waist and drew her to him;
then his arms were around her, and the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into
her mouth. Hunger flared, fanned into instant life at his touch. She had always
known that once she touched him, she wouldn't be able to get enough of him.
She softened, her body molding itself to him
as she instinctively tried to get close enough to him to feed that burning
hunger. She was weak where he was concerned, just as all women were. Her arms
were clinging around his neck, and in the end it was he who broke the kiss and
gently set her away from him.
"I have work to get back to," he
growled, but his eyes were hot and held dark promises. "Be ready
tomorrow."
"Yes," she whispered.
----
Chapter Four
Two pickup trucks came up the drive not long
after sunrise, loaded with fencing supplies
she hadn't wanted! All she'd wanted had been time alone in a quiet place, a
chance to lick her wounds and finish recovering from a brutal marriage, but her
father had thought resuming a life of trips and shopping with her friends would
be better, and she'd gone along with him because it had made him happy.
"I didn't even want to go," she
said numbly, and to her horror tears began welling in her eyes. She didn't want
to cry; she hadn't cried in years, except once when her father died, and she
especially didn't want to cry in front of Rafferty. But she was tired and off
balance, disturbed by the phone call from Roger that morning, and this just
seemed like the last straw. The hot tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
"God, don't," he muttered, wrapping
his arms around her and holding her to him, her face pressed against his chest.
It was like a knife in him to see those tears on her face, because in all the
time he'd known her, he'd never before seen her cry. Michelle Cabot had faced
life with either a laugh or a sharp retort, but never with tears. He found he
preferred an acid tongue to this soundless weeping.
For just a moment she leaned against him, letting
him support her with his hard strength. It was too tempting; when his arms were
around her, she wanted to forget everything and shut the world out, as long as
he was holding her. That kind of need frightened her, and she stiffened in his
arms, then pulled free.
She swiped her palms over her cheeks, wiping
away the dampness, and stubbornly blinked back the remaining tears.
His voice was quiet. "I thought you
knew."
She threw him an incredulous look before
turning away. What an opinion he had of her! She didn't mind his thinking she
was spoiled; her father had spoiled her, but mostly because he'd enjoyed doing
it so much. Evidently John not only considered her a common whore, but a stupid
one to boot.
"Well, I didn't. And whether I knew or
not doesn't change anything. I still owe you the money."
"We'll see my lawyer tomorrow and have
the deed drawn up, and that'll take care of the damned debt. I'll be here at
nine sharp, so be ready. A crew of men will be here in the morning to take care
of the fencing and get the hay out to the herd."
He wasn't going to give in on that, and he
was right; it
was
too much for her, at least right now. She couldn't
do it all simply because it was too much for one person to do. After she
fattened up the beef cattle and sold them off, she'd have some capital to work
with and might be able to hire someone part-time.
"All right. But keep a record of how
much I owe you. When I get this place back on its feet, I'll repay every
penny." Her chin was high as she turned to face him, her green eyes remote
and proud. This didn't solve all her problems, but at least the cattle would be
cared for. She still had to get the money to pay the bills, but that problem
was hers alone.
"Whatever you say, honey," he
drawled, putting his hands on her waist.
She only had time for an indrawn breath
before his mouth was on hers, as warm and hard as she remembered, his taste as
heady as she remembered. His hands tightened on her waist and drew her to him;
then his arms were around her, and the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into
her mouth. Hunger flared, fanned into instant life at his touch. She had always
known that once she touched him, she wouldn't be able to get enough of him.
She softened, her body molding itself to him
as she instinctively tried to get close enough to him to feed that burning
hunger. She was weak where he was concerned, just as all women were. Her arms
were clinging around his neck, and in the end it was he who broke the kiss and
gently set her away from him.
"I have work to get back to," he
growled, but his eyes were hot and held dark promises. "Be ready
tomorrow."
"Yes," she whispered.
----
Chapter Four
Two pickup trucks came up the drive not long
after sunrise, loaded with fencing supplies
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