Diana Palmer - The Cowboy and the Lady

“It’s like touching silk,” he’d murmured against her mouth, drawing back slightly to stare down at her. “Look at me,” he’d said gruffly. “Let me see your face.”

She’d raised frightened eyes to his, pushing at his hand in a flurry of outrage and embarrassment. “Don’t,” she’d whispered.

“Why not?” His eyes had glittered, going down to the darkness of his fingers against the white organdy of her bodice. “Isn’t this why you asked me here tonight, Amanda? To see if a ranch hand makes love like a gentleman?”

She’d torn out of his arms, tears of humiliation glistening in her eyes.

“Don’t you like the truth?” he’d asked, and he laughed at her while he lit a cigarette with steady fingers. “Sorry to disappoint you, little girl, but I’ve gone past ranch hand now. I’m the boss. I’ve not only paid off Casa Verde, I’m going to make a legend of it. I’m going to have the biggest damned spread in Texas before I’m through. And then, if I’m still tempted, I might give you another try.” His eyes had hurt as they studied her like a side of beef. “You’ll have to round out a bit more, though. You’re too thin.”

She hadn’t been able to find the right words, and Duncan had appeared to rescue her before she had to. She’d never invited Jace to another party, though, and she’d gone to great lengths to stay out of his way. That hadn’t bothered him a bit. She often suspected that he really did hate her.

* * *

That night, Amanda slept fitfully, her dreams disturbed by scenes she couldn’t remember when she woke up early the next morning. She dragged herself out of bed and pulled on the worn blue terry-cloth robe at the foot of her bed, her long blond hair streaming down her back and over her shoulders in a beautiful silver-blond tangle that only made her look prettier. She huddled in the robe in the chill morning air that blew the curtains back from the window. She’d opened it last night so that she could drink in the fresh clean country air.

A knock at the door brought her to her feet again from her perch on the vanity bench, and she yawned as she padded barefoot to the door. Her eyes fell sadly to the old robe, remembering satin ones she used to own that had dainty little fur scuffs to match. Her shoulders shrugged. That life was over. It was just a dream, washed away by the riptide of reality.

She opened the door, expecting Maria, and found Duncan grinning down at her, brown-eyed and boyish.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said merrily.

“Duncan!” she cried, and, careless of convention, threw herself into his husky arms. They closed around her warmly and she caught the familiar scent of the spice cologne he’d always worn.

“Missed me, did you?” he asked at her ear, because he was only a couple of inches taller than she was—not at all as towering and formidable as Jace. “Not even a postcard in six months, either.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” she murmured.

“Why not? It wasn’t my bull you ran over.” He chuckled.

“No, it was mine,” came a rough voice from behind Duncan, and Amanda stiffened involuntarily.

Tugging away from Duncan, she shook back her wealth of soft, curling hair and glared at Jace’s set face. He was dressed for work this morning, in expensively cut but faded jeans and a gray shirt that just matched his cold, narrow eyes. Atop his head was the old black Stetson.

“Good morning, Jace,” she said with chilling sweetness. “So sorry I forgot my manners yesterday. I haven’t thanked you for your warm reception.”

Jace threw up an eyebrow, and there was something indefinable in the look he gave her. “Don’t strain yourself, Lady.”

Her face burned. “My name is Amanda. Or Miss Carson. Or hey, you. But don’t call me Lady. I don’t like it.”

One corner of Jace’s hard mouth went up in a taunting smile. “Brave in company, aren’t you? Try it when we’re alone.”

“Make sure your insurance is paid up first, won’t you?” she said, smiling venomously.

“Now, friends,” Duncan interrupted, “this is no way to start off a beautiful morning. Especially when we haven’t even had breakfast.”

“Haven’t we?” Amanda asked. “Your brother’s had two bites of me already.”

Jace cocked his head at her and his eyes sparkled dangerously, like sun on ice crystals. “Careful, honey. I hit back.”

“Go ahead,” she challenged bravely.

“On my own ground,” he said with the light of battle kindling in his face. “And in my own time.” He looked from Amanda to Duncan. “What came out of the meeting?”

“Jenkins is interested,” the younger man replied with a smile. “I think I hooked him. We’ll know tomorrow. Mean-while, has Black explained what the ad agency can do for us on that Florida development?”

“Briefly, but not in any detail,” Jace replied.

“What do you think?” Duncan persisted, his brown eyes questioning Jace’s gray ones.

Jace stared back. “I’ll have to hear more about it. A hell of a lot more.”

“Sounds like we’re in for a long week.” The younger man sighed.

“It may be too long for some of us,” came the curt reply, and a pair of silvery eyes cut at Amanda. “And if Lady here doesn’t get that chip off her shoulder, Black can damned well take his proposal back to San Antonio without my signature on any contract.”

Amanda hated him for that threat. It was all the more despicable because she knew he meant it. He’d carry his resentment of her over into business, and he was ruthless enough to deny Terry the account out of sheer spite. Jace never bluffed. He never had to. People always came around to his way of thinking in the end.

“Now, Jace,” Duncan began, mediating as always.

“I’ve got work to do,” Jace growled, pivoting on his booted heel. “Come on down to the Kennedy bottoms when you’ve had breakfast and I’ll show you the young bull I bought at the Western Heritage sale last week.”

“Can I bring Amanda?” Duncan asked with calculating eyes.

Jace’s broad shoulders stiffened. He glanced back angrily. “I’d like to keep this one,” he said curtly, and kept walking.

Amanda’s face froze. She glared at the long, muscular back with pure hatred. “I wish he’d fall down the stairs,” she muttered.

“Jace never falls,” he reminded her. “And if he ever did, he’d land on his feet.” He grinned down at her. “My, my, how you’ve changed. You never used to talk back to him.”

“I’m twenty-three years old, and he’s not using me for a doormat anymore,” she replied with cool hauteur.

Duncan nodded, and she thought she detected a hint of smugness in his eyes before they darted away. “Get dressed and come on down,” he told her. “I’m anxious to hear about the ad campaign you and Black have worked up.”

“Do Tess and her father have to see it, too?” she asked suddenly.

“Tess!” he grumbled. “I’d forgotten about her. Well, we’ll cross that bridge later. Jace and I have a bigger investment than the Andersons, so we’ll have the final say.”

“Jace will side with them,” she said certainly.

“He might surprise you. In fact,” he added mysteriously, “I’d bet on it. Get dressed, girl, time’s a-wasting!”

She saluted him. “Yes, sir!”

* * *

Later in the day, Duncan took his guests out for a ride around the ranch on horseback, taking care to see that Terry—an admitted novice—got a slow, gentle mount.

The ranch stretched off in every direction, fenced in green and white, with neat barns and even neater paddocks. It was a staggering operation.

“Jace’s computer stores records on over a hundred thousand head,” Duncan told Terry as they watched the beefy Santa Gertrudis cattle graze, their rich red coats burning in the sun. “We’re fortunate enough to be able to run both purebred and grade cattle here, and we have our own feed-lot. We don’t have to contract our beef cattle out before we sell them. We can feed them out right here on the ranch.”

Terry blinked. Ranch talk was new to him, but to Amanda, who knew and loved every stick and horn on the place, it was familiar and interesting.

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