"Well?" he asked abruptly.
Ed grinned from ear to ear. "She's going to be fine. Dr. Santos said that in six weeks, when she comes out of that cast, she'll be able to dance in a contest."
Matt nodded. "Good."
Ed answered a question Matt had about one of their accounts and then, assuming that Matt didn't want anything else at the moment, he went back to his office. He had a temporary secretary, a pretty little redhead who had a bright personality and good dictation skills.
Surprisingly, Matt followed him into his office and closed the door. "Tell me how that bone was shattered," he said abruptly.
Ed sat down and leaned forward with his forearms on his cluttered desk. "That's Leslie's business, Matt," he replied. "I wouldn't tell you, even if I knew," he added, lying through his teeth with deliberate calm.
He sighed irritably. "She's a puzzle. A real puzzle."
"She's a sweet girl who's had a lot of hard knocks," Ed told him. "But regardless of what you think you know about her, she isn't 'easy.' Don't make the mistake of classing her with your usual sort of woman. You'll regret it."
Matt studied the younger man curiously and his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, I think she's 'easy'?" he asked, bristling.
"Forgotten already? That's what you said about her."
Matt felt uncomfortable at the words that he'd spoken with such assurance to Leslie. He glanced at Ed irritably. "Miss Murry obviously means something to you. If you're so fond of her, why haven't you married her?''
Ed smoothed back his hair. "She kept me from blowing my brains out when my fiancee was gunned down in a bank robbery in Houston," he said. "I actually had the pistol loaded. She took it away from me."
Matt's eyes narrowed. "You never told me you were that despondent."
"You wouldn't have understood," came the reply. "Women were always a dime a dozen to you, Matt. You've never really been in love."
Matt's face, for once, didn't conceal his bitterness. "I wouldn't give any woman that sort of power over me," he said in clipped tones. "Women are devious, Ed. They'll smile at you until they get what they want, then they'll walk right over you to the next sucker. I've seen too many good men brought down by women they loved."
"There are bad men, too," Ed pointed out.
Matt shrugged. "I'm not arguing with that." He smiled. "I would have done what I could for you, though," he added. "We have our disagreements, but we're closer than most cousins are."
Ed nodded. "Yes, we are."
"You really are fond of Miss Murry, aren't you?"
"In a big brotherly sort of way," Ed affirmed. "She trusts me. If you knew her, you'd understand how difficult it is for her to trust a man."
"I think she's pulling the wool over your eyes," Matt told him. "You be careful. She's down on her luck, and you're rich."
Ed's face contorted briefly. "Good God, Matt, you haven't got a clue what she's really like."
"Neither have you," Matt commented with a cold smile. "But I know things about her that you don't. Let's leave it at that."
Ed hated his own impotence. "I want to keep her in my office."
"How do you expect her to come to work in a cast?" he asked frankly.
Ed leaned back in his chair and grinned. "The same way I did five years ago, when I had that skiing accident and broke my ankle. People work with broken bones all the time. And she doesn't type with her feet."
Matt shrugged. Miss Murry had him completely confused. "Suit yourself," he said finally. "Just keep her out of my way."
That shouldn't be difficult, Ed thought ruefully. Matt certainly wasn't on Leslie's list of favorite people. He wondered what the days ahead would bring. It would be like storing dynamite with lighted candles.
Leslie was out of the hospital in three days and back at work in a week. The company had paid for her surgery, to her surprise and Ed's. She knew that Matt had only done that out of guilt. Well, he needn't flay himself over what happened. She didn't really blame him. She had loved dancing with him. She refused to think of how that evening had ended. Some memories were best forgotten.
She hobbled into Ed's office with the use of crutches and plopped herself down behind her desk on her first day back on the job.
"How did you get here?" Ed asked with a surprised smile. "You can't drive, can you?"
"No, but one of the girls in my rooming house works in downtown Jacobsville and we're going to become a carpool three days a week. I'm paying my share of the gas and on her days off, I'll get a taxi to work," she added.
"I'm glad you're back," he said with genuine fondness.
"Oh, sure you are," she said with a teasing glance. "I heard all about Karla Smith when the girls from Mr. Caldwell's office came to see me. I understand she has a flaming crush on you."
Ed chuckled. "So they say. Poor girl."
She made a face. "You can't live in the past."
"Tell yourself that."
She put her crutches on the floor beside the desk, and swiveled back in her desk chair. "It's going to be a little difficult for me to get back and forth to your office," she said. "Can you dictate letters in here?"
"Of course."
She looked around the office with pleasure. "I'm glad I got to come back," she murmured. "I thought Mr. Caldwell might find an excuse to let me go."
"I'm Mr. Caldwell, too," he pointed out. "Matt's bark is worse than his bite. He won't fire you."
She grimaced. "Don't let me cause trouble between you," she said with genuine concern. "I'd rather quit..."
"No, you won't," he interrupted. He ruffled her short hair with a playful grin. "I like having you around. Besides, you spell better than the other women."
Her eyes lit up as she looked at him. She smiled back. "Thanks, boss."
Matt opened the door in time to encounter the affectionate looks they exchanged and his face hardened as he slammed it behind him.
They both jumped.
"Jehosophat, Matt!" Ed burst out, catching his breath. "Don't do that!"
"Don't play games with your secretary on my time," Matt returned. His cold dark eyes went to Leslie, whose own eyes went cold at sight of him. "Back at work, I see, Miss Murry."
"All the better to pay you back for my hospital stay, sir," she returned with a smile that bordered on insolence.
He bit back a sharp reply and turned to Ed, ignoring her. "I want you to take Nell Hobbs out to lunch and find out how she's going to vote on the zoning proposal. If they zone that land adjoining my ranch as recreational, I'm going to spend my life in court."
"If she votes for it, she'll be the only one," Ed assured him. "I spoke to the other commissioners myself."
He seemed to relax a little. "Okay. In that case, you can run over to Houlihan's dealership and drive my new Jaguar over here. It came in this morning."
Ed's eyes widened. "You're going to let me drive it?"
"Why not?" Matt asked with a warm smile, the sort Leslie knew she'd never see on that handsome face.
Ed chuckled. "Then, thanks. I'll be back shortly!" He started down the hall at a dead run. "Leslie, we'll do those letters after lunch!"
"Sure," she said. "I can spend the day updating those old herd records." She glanced at Matt to let him know she hadn't forgotten his instructions from before her operation.
He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and his blue eyes searched her gray ones intently. Deliberately he let his gaze fall to her soft mouth. He remembered the feel of it clinging to his parted lips, hungry and moaning...
His teeth clenched. He couldn't think about that.
"The herd records can wait," he said tersely. "My secretary is home with a sick child, so you can work for me for the rest of the day. Ed can let Miss Smith handle his urgent stuff today."
She hesitated visibly. "Yes, sir," she said in a wooden voice.
"I have to talk to Henderson about one of the new accounts. I'll meet you in my office in thirty minutes."
&nb
sp; "Yes, sir."
They were watching each other like opponents in a match when Matt made an angry sound under his breath and walked out.
Leslie spent a few minutes sorting the mail and looking over it. A little over a half hour went by before she realized it. A sound caught her attention and she looked up to find an impatient Matt Caldwell standing in the doorway.
"Sorry. I lost track of the time," she said quickly, putting the opened mail aside. She reached for her crutches and got up out of her chair, reaching for her pad and pen when she was ready to go. She looked up at Matt, who seemed taller than ever. "I'm ready when you are, boss," she said courteously.
"Don't call me boss," he said flatly.
"Okay, Mr. Caldwell," she returned.
He glared at her, but she gave him a bland look and even managed a smile. He wanted to throw things.
He turned, leaving her to follow him down the long hall to his executive office, which had a bay window overlooking downtown Jacobsville. His desk was solid oak, huge, covered with equipment and papers of all sorts. There was a kid leather-covered chair behind the desk and two equally impressive wing chairs, and a sofa, all done in burgundy. The carpet was a deep, rich beige. The curtains were plaid, picking up the burgundy in the furniture and adding it to autumn hues. There was a framed portrait of someone who looked vaguely like Matt over the mantel of the fireplace, in which gas logs rested. There were two chairs and a table near the fireplace, probably where Matt and some visitor would share a pot of coffee or a drink. There was a bar against one wall with a mirror behind it, giving an added air of spacious comfort to the high-ceilinged room. The windows were tall ones, unused because the Victorian house that contained the offices had central heating.
Matt watched her studying her surroundings covertly. He closed the door behind them and motioned her into a chair facing the desk. She eased down into it and put her crutches beside her. She was still a little uncomfortable, but aspirin was enough to contain the pain these days. She looked forward to having the cast off, to walking normally again.
She put the pad on her lap and maneuvered the leg in the cast so that it was as comfortable as she could get it.
Matt was leaning back in his chair with his booted feet on the desk and his eyes narrow and watchful as he sketched her slender body in the flowing beige pantsuit she was wearing with a patterned scarf tucked in the neck of the jacket. The outside seam in the left leg of her slacks had been snipped to allow for the cast. Otherwise, she was covered from head to toe, just as she had been from the first time he saw her. Odd, that he hadn't really noticed that before. It wasn't a new habit dating from the night he'd touched her so intimately, either.
"How's the leg?" he asked curtly.
"Healing, thank you," she replied. "I've already spoken to the bookkeeper about pulling out a quarter of my check weekly..."
He leaned forward so abruptly that it sounded like a gunshot when his booted feet hit the floor.
"I'll take that up with bookkeeping," he said sharply. "You've overstepped your authority, Miss Murry. Don't do it again."
She shifted in the chair, moving the ungainly cast, and assumed a calm expression. "I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell."
Her voice was serene but her hands were shaking on the pad and pen. He averted his eyes and got to his feet, glaring out the window.
She waited patiently with her eyes on the blank pad, wondering when he was going to start dictation.
"You told Ed that Carolyn phoned you the night before we took you to the emergency room and made some cruel remarks." He remembered what Ed had related about that conversation and it made him unusually thoughtful. He turned and caught her surprised expression. "Carolyn denies saying anything to upset you."
Her expression didn't change. She didn't care what he thought of her anymore. She didn't say a word in her defense.
His dark eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose. "Well?"
"What would you like me to say?"
"You might try apologizing," he told her coldly, trying to smoke her out. “Carolyn was very upset to have such a charge made against her. I don't like having her upset," he added deliberately and stood looking down his nose at her, waiting for her to react to the challenge.
Her fingers tightened around the pencil. It was going to be worse than she ever dreamed, trying to work with him. He couldn't fire her, Ed had said, but that didn't mean he couldn't make her quit. If he made things difficult enough for her, she wouldn't be able to stay.
All at once, it didn't seem worth the effort. She was tired, worn-out, and Carolyn had hurt her, not the reverse. She was sick to death of trying to live from one day to the next with the weight of the past bearing down on her more each day. Being tormented by Matt Caldwell on top of all that was the last straw.
She reached for her crutches and stood up, pad and all.
"Where do you think you're going?" Matt demanded, surprised that she was giving up without an argument.
She went toward the door. He got in front of her, an easy enough task when every step she took required extreme effort.
She looked up at him with the eyes of a trapped animal, resigned and resentful and without life. "Ed said you couldn't fire me without his consent," she said quietly. "But you can hound me until I quit, can't you?"
He didn't speak. His face was rigid. "Would you give up so easily?" he asked, baiting her. "Where will you go?"
Her gaze dropped to the floor. Idly she noticed that one of her flat-heeled shoes had a smudge of mud on it. She should clean it off.
"I said, where will you go?" Matt persisted.
She met his cold eyes. "Surely in all of Texas, there's more than one secretarial position available," she said. "Please move. You're blocking the door."
He did move, but not in the way she'd expected. He took the crutches away from her and propped them against the bookshelf by the door. His hands went on either side of her head, trapping her in front of him. His dark eyes held a faint glitter as he studied her wan face, her soft mouth.
"Don't," she managed tightly.
He moved closer. He smelled of spice and aftershave and coffee. His breath was warm where it brushed her forehead. She could feel the warmth of his tall, fit body, and she remembered reluctantly how it had felt to let him hold her and touch her in his bedroom.
He was remembering those same things, but not with pleasure. He hated the attraction he felt for this woman, whom he didn't, couldn't trust.
"You don't like being touched, you said," he reminded her with deliberate sarcasm as his lean hand suddenly smoothed over her breast and settled there provocatively.
Her indrawn breath was audible. She looked up at him with all her hidden vulnerabilities exposed. "Please don't do this," she whispered. "I'm no threat to Ed, or to you, either. Just...let me go. I'll vanish."
She probably would, and that wounded him. He was making her life miserable. Why did this woman arouse such bitter feelings in him, when he was the soul of kindness to most people with problems—especially physical problems, like hers.
"Ed won't like it," he said tersely.
"Ed doesn't have to know anything," she said dully. "You can tell him whatever you like."
"Is he your lover?"
"No."
"Why not? You don't mind if he touches you."
"He doesn't. Not...the way you do."
Her strained voice made him question his own cruelty. He lifted his hand away from her body and tilted her chin up so that he could see her eyes. They were turbulent, misty.
"How many poor fools have you played the innocent with, Miss Murry?" he asked coldly.
She saw the lines in his face, many more than his age should have caused. She saw the coldness in his eyes, the bitterness of too many betrayals, too many loveless years.
Unexpectedly she reached up and touched his hair, smoothing it back as Lou had smoothed hers back in an act of silent compassion.
It made him furious
. His body pressed down completely against hers, holding her prisoner. His hips twisted in a crude, rough motion that was instantly arousing.
She tried to twist away and he groaned huskily, giving her a worldly smile when she realized that her attempt at escape had failed and made the situation even worse.
Her face colored. It was like that night. It was the way Mike had behaved, twisting his body against her innocent one and laughing at her embarrassment. He'd said things, done things to her in front of his friends that still made her want to gag.
Matt's hand fell to her hip and contracted as he used one of his long legs to nudge hers apart. She was stiff against him, frozen with painful memories of another man, another encounter, that had begun just this way. She'd thought she loved Mike until he made her an object of lustful ridicule, making fun of her innocence as he anticipated its delights for the enjoyment of his laughing friends, grouped around them as he forcibly stripped the clothes away from her body. He laughed at her small breasts, at her slender figure, and all the while he touched her insolently and made jokes about her most intimate places.
She was years in the past, reliving the torment, the shame, that had seen her spread-eagled on the wood floor with Mike's drug-crazed friends each holding one of her shaking limbs still while Mike lowered his nude body onto hers and roughly parted her legs...
Matt realized belatedly that Leslie was frozen in place like a statue with a white face and eyes that didn't even see him. He could hear her heartbeat, quick and frantic. Her whole body shook, but not with pleasure or anticipation.
Frowning, he let her go and stepped back. She shivered again, convulsively. Mike had backed away, too, to the sound of a firecracker popping loudly. But it hadn't been a firecracker. It had been a bullet. It went right through him, into Leslie's leg. He looked surprised. Leslie remembered his blue eyes as the life visibly went out of them, leaving them fixed and blank just before he fell heavily on her. There had been such a tiny hole in his back, compared to the one in his chest. Her mother was screaming, trying to fire again, trying to kill her. Leslie had seduced her own lover, she wanted to kill them both, and she was glad Mike was dead. Leslie would be dead, too!
Books By Diana Palmer Page 234
