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said something harsh under his breath, then added more loudly, "Don't you ever offer me money
again." She felt the blood draining out of her face. "Why?" she asked. "Because you think I'd get it
from my rich lover?" He stared at her without blinking. "Gussie admitted that she had exaggerated,"
he said. "And I over- reacted." "How kind of you to admit it," she replied with more spirit than she
knew she had. "But it's a day late and a dollar short. I don't owe you any explanations, so you just
think what you like. And I won't go to Lariat with you. I'll stay in the apartment with Mother. That
should please you," she added with a false smile, "since the entire purpose of your visit was to make
sure she left Lariat." He moved away from the bed, his hands in his slacks pockets, his dark hair
catching the overhead light and gleaming like a raven's back. "That wasn't the entire purpose of it," he
said quietly. "But this isn't the time or place to discuss what brought me there." "What you said about
my mother . . . and your father," she persisted, "was it true?" "Ask your mother, Bess," he said shortly.
"I can only give you one side of it. And as my mother is fond of saying, there are two sides to
everything. I never bothered to ask for Gussie's. I took what I saw at face value." "It's hard to believe.
She loved my father." He stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at her intently for a long moment.
"Are you experienced enough now to know that love and desire can exist separately?" She glared at
him. "You ought to know." His eyebrow arched. "I know about desire," he mused. "Love is a different
animal altogether." Her fingers curled into the sheet, and she looked at it instead of him. "Trust you to
compare it to some- thing with four legs," she muttered. "Where does Ryker fit into your life?" he
asked, hoping to catch her off guard. She lifted her eyes to his. "Jordan Ryker is none of your
business. As you've gone to great pains to tell me, I'm out of your league. I'm decorative and useless
and I may someday have to have my mother surgically removed from my back." He laughed. He didn't
mean to, because it wasn't funny, but the way she put it touched something in- side him, and relief and
delight mingled in the deep sound that escaped his throat. "For two cents I'd tell Gussie what you just
said." "Be my guest," she replied. "I don't care anymore. My life is falling apart around my ears."
"None of that," he said firmly. "You can't give up and quit now that you're finally getting
independent." "What do you care?" she challenged, her brown eyes flashing at him. "You wouldn't
want me if I came with french fries and tartar sauce!" His dark eyes twinkled. "I've never seen you
fight back before," he remarked. "I like you this way," he added, his voice deep and frankly sensual.
Her cheeks went hot, but she didn't drop her eyes. "Well, I don't like you any way at all. Why don't
you go home and brand a calf or something?" "I Can't leave my mother alone with Gussie," he replied.
"She'd have Mother signing notes for mink coats and luxury cars. Mother feels sorry for her." "You
sure don't," Bess guessed. , " "You can tie a bow on that," he agreed. "Has anyone called to ask about
me?" she wanted to know. His face closed up. "Ryker did, if that's what you want to find out," he said
coldly, recalling that Gussie had spoken to him. "How very nice of him," she said with a smile. "A
man should care about his kept woman." "Oh, hell, stop that," he muttered. Cade moved away from
the bed. He looked as if he wanted to bite something. "Someone named Julie called too." "She's my
boss," she told him. "She's the office manager." He glanced at her. "A woman?" "Women can read
and write and do math," she told him. "They can even manage offices if they're given a chance." His
eyebrows levered up. "Did I say they couldn't? My God, I know what women can do. My mother is
one of the finest financial managers I've ever seen in action. She could run a damned corporation
herself, except that she's softhearted enough to give it away to the first unfortunate who asked for it."
He sat back down in the chair beside the bed, his eyes going over her poor bruised face, her thin body
in the cotton hospital gown. She looked much the worse for wear, but thank God she was alive. "What
do you do at that advertising agency?" he asked. "I started out doing mechanicals." She smiled faintly [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]