by Diana Palmer
“In that case,” he said gently, “I’ll have to let you push me down in the hay, won’t I?”
Tears misted in her eyes. “Oh, Cade...”
“Will you get out of my truck?” he asked pleasantly, preventing her, probably intentionally, from showing any gratitude. “I think I did mention about a half hour ago that I was in a flaming hurry.”
“Some hurry,” she scoffed. “If you were really in a hurry,” she added, nodding toward the snow, “you’d walk.”
“That’s an idea. But I left my snowshoes in the attic. Out! Go let Melly show you how to work the computer. You do realize that somebody’s going to have to do her job while she’s on her honeymoon?”
“Me? But, Cade, I don’t know anything about computers....”
“What a great time for you to learn,” he advised. He searched her flushed face, seeing a new purpose in it, a slackening of the fear, and he nodded. “Don’t rush off to New York after the wedding. Stay with me.”
“I’d like to stay with you,” she said in a soft, gentle tone as she looked into his dark eyes.
He held her gaze for a long, warm moment before he averted his eyes to the gearshift. “Now I’m going,” he said firmly. “Either you skedaddle or you come with me.”
“I’d like to come with you,” she said with a sigh, “but I’d just get in the way, wouldn’t I?”
“Sure,” he said with a flash of white teeth. Then his eyes narrowed. “Do you want to come, really? Because I’m going to let you, and to hell with getting in the way, if you say yes.”
She took a deep, slow breath, and shrugged. “Better not, I suppose,” she said regretfully. “Melly’s wedding dress...I have to get started.”
“Okay. How about fabric?”
“Calla bought it for me. It’s just a matter of deciding what to use,” she told him. “Don’t get sick, okay?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Why? Afraid you’d have to nurse me?”
“I’d stay up all night for weeks if you needed me. Don’t be silly,” she chided, reaching for the door handle.
“Tell Calla not to keep supper, honey, it’s going to be another long night.”
She nodded as she held the door ajar. “Want me to bring your supper down to you?”
He smiled. “On your snowshoes? Better not, it’s damned cold out here. I’ll have a bite later. See you.”
“See you.”
She closed the door and watched him drive away with wistful eyes. She already regretted not going with him, but she didn’t wait around to wonder why.
That night, she and Melly chose the fabric from the yards and yards of it that Calla had tucked away in the cedar chest.
“Isn’t it strange that I’m getting married first?” Melly asked as they studied the pattern. “I always thought it would be you.”
“Me and who?” Abby laughed.
“Cade, of course.”
Abby caught her breath. “He never felt that way.”
“Oh, you poor blind thing,” Melly said softly. “He used to watch you like a man watching a rainbow. Sometimes his hands would tremble when he was helping you onto a horse or opening a door for you, and you never even noticed, did you?”
Abby’s pale brown eyes widened helplessly. “Cade?”
“Cade.” Melly sat back in her chair and sighed. “He was head over heels about you when you left here. He roared around for two weeks after you were gone, making the men nervous, driving the rest of us up walls. He’d sit by the fire at night and just stare straight ahead. I’ve never seen a man grieve like that over a woman. And you didn’t even know.”
Abby’s eyes closed in pain. If she’d known that, career or no career, she would have come running back to Montana on her bare feet if she’d had to. “I didn’t have any idea. If I’d known that, I never would have left here. Never!” she burst out.
Melly caught her breath at the passion that flared up in her sister’s eyes. “You loved him?”
“Deathlessly.” Her eyes closed, then opened again, misty with tears. “I’ll die loving him.”
“Abby!”
She took a steadying breath and slumped. “Four years. Four long years, and a nightmare at the end of it. And if I’d stayed here... Why didn’t he tell me?”
“I suppose he thought he was doing the best thing for you,” Melly said gently. “You were so excited about a career in modeling.”
“I thought at the time that it would be better to moon over Cade at a distance instead of going to seed while I waited in vain for him to notice me again,” Abby said miserably.
“Again?”
Darn Melly’s quick mind. “Just never you mind. Let’s go over this pattern.”
“He still cares about you,” Melly murmured.
“In a different way, though.”
“That could change,” came the soft reply, “if you want it to.”
“If only Cade didn’t have such a soft spot for stray things,” Abby said, her eyes wistful. “I never know what he really feels—I never have. He was sorry for me when I was a kid and, in a way, he still is. I don’t want a man who pities me, Melly.”
“How do you know that Cade does? You’re a lovely woman.”
“A woman with a very big problem,” Abby reminded her, “and Cade goes out of his way to help people, you know that. We go back a long way and he’s fond of me. How can I be sure that what he feels isn’t just compassion, Melly?”
“Give it time and find out.”
“That,” she said with a sigh, “is sage advice. By the way, you’re going to have to teach me how to do your job, because he’s already maneuvered me into replacing you while you’re on your honeymoon.”
“Oh, he has, has he?” Melly pursed her lips and her eyes laughed. “That isn’t something he’d do if he really felt sorry for you!” she assured her sister.
“Now cut that out! Here, tell me if you like the dress better with a long train or a short one....”
And for the rest of the night, they concentrated on the wedding gown.
8
In the days that followed, Abby learned more about the logistics of roundup on Painted Ridge than she wanted to. The whole ranch suddenly revolved around preparations for it. There were supplies to get in, men to hire and add to the weekly payroll. And at the head of it all was Cade, mapping out strategy, tossing out orders as he organized everything from the butane for the torches they used to heat the branding irons to ear tags. At the same time, he was involved with roundup on the other two ranches he had interests in, and in between were cattle auctions, board meetings and a rushed trip to New York to discuss his corporation’s plans to buy a feedlot in Oklahoma.
Abby couldn’t help thinking how sexy Cade looked in his pale gray suit with matching boots and Stetson when he came downstairs with his suitcase in his hand.
“Well, I guess I’m ready,” he grumbled, heading toward the front door. Hank was waiting impatiently outside in the truck.
“You really need something snazzier than a pickup truck to ride to the airport in,” Abby remarked with a smile. “You look very sophisticated.”
He glanced at her, his eyes clearly approving her jeans and pale T-shirt. “I’d rather be wearing what you’ve got on.”
“You’d sure look funny in it,” she murmured wickedly.
He chuckled softly. “I guess I would. Oh, damn, I hate these dress-up things, and I hate to ride around the country on airplanes with other people at the controls.”
“If you fly like you drive—” she began.
“Cut that out,” he said darkly. He checked his watch. “Stay off the horses until I get back, too. I told Hank to make sure you do.”
Her eyes flashed, and she drew herself up to her full height, lifting her shoulders proud
ly. “I’m not a child.”
His gaze went pointedly to the high, firm thrust of her breasts and he smiled faintly. “No, ma’am, you sure aren’t.”
“Cade Alexander McLaren!” she gasped.
He chuckled at her red face. “Well, you can’t blame a man for noticing things, honey.”
“Hank’s leaning on the horn,” she murmured, glancing nervously toward the door.
“Let him lean on it. Or stand on it. Hank was born in a hurry.” He studied her for a long moment. “I’ll let you kiss me goodbye if you ask me nice.”
She colored even more. “Why do I always have to do all the kissing?” she asked.
“Because you might not like the way I do it,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Her heart pounded wildly and she felt her breath coming hard and fast when she saw the expression that washed over his dark face. He dropped the suitcase with a hard thud and strode right for her.
Before she even had time to decide whether to run or duck, he had her by the waist. He lifted her completely off the floor so that she was on a level with his glittering dark eyes, and she noticed that he was breathing as raggedly as she was.
“Let’s see, Abby,” he said quietly, and tilted his head.
His mouth bit softly at hers in brief, rough kisses that made her blood run hot. Her hands tangled in his dark hair as she tried to hold his mouth over hers, hungry to feel the full pressure of it. Her body felt taut as a cord and she opened her lips to the coaxing play of his. It seemed to be just what he was waiting for, because he took possession then, and she felt his tongue go into her mouth in an intimacy they’d shared only once before.
She caught a sharp breath, but she didn’t protest. Not even when he eased her sensuously down and held her close against his taut body. He forced her mouth open farther, tasting it with growing hunger, increasing the pressure until she moaned with sudden pleasure.
One big hand released her and slid up her side to her breast. It hesitated for an instant, and then it engulfed her, his thumb coaxing a helpless response even through two layers of fabric. She moaned again.
He lifted his mouth, breathing roughly, and studied her rapt face. “Look, Abby,” he whispered, glancing down to the darkness of his hand where her body was frankly showing its response to his touch. “See how you react to me....”
“Don’t,” she whispered achingly, pushing his hand away even as she leaned her head against his vest while she caught her breath. Her heartbeat was still rapid, and she felt flushed with embarrassment.
His forehead nuzzled against her soft blond hair. “Don’t be shy with me,” he said quietly. “I know you wouldn’t let another man touch you like this. I don’t think less of you for it.”
Tears welled in her eyes. He was the most tender man she’d ever known; he had a way of making the most traumatic things seem easy, uncomplicated.
“It shocked me a little,” she whispered unsteadily.
“I like the way you kiss me when you’re shocked,” he mused with a faint smile when he lifted his head.
Her eyes darkened as she looked up at him, unafraid. “I tasted you,” she whispered shakily.
His hands tautened like steel around her upper arms and his face seemed to harden even as she watched. “Don’t say things like that to me,” he said unsteadily. “You don’t realize the effect it has, and I’m already late for the airport.”
She looked down at his broad chest. “Sorry. Will you be gone long?”
His hands contracted and then released her. “A couple days. I can’t spare them, but I don’t want the man to change his mind about that feedlot. The corporation needs it.”
She nodded, glancing up at his set features. “I’ll do my best not to foul up your bookkeeping while you’re gone.”
“Melly won’t let you,” he replied. He took a long breath and moved back to the suitcase, swinging it up easily. “Besides, all the bookkeeping we do here is payroll, and you’ll be doing cattle records, not that. Take care, honey.”
“You, too,” she said softly, missing him already. He would take the color away when he left. It had been that way all her adult life.
Hank was blowing the horn again, and Cade shook his head. “He’s afraid the plane will leave me behind,” he said amusedly. “I chewed him out this morning for forgetting to put in a supply order. He feels safer when I’m a state or two away.”
“Don’t they all,” she murmured with a wicked grin.
He tilted the Stetson low over his eyes. “Bye. Don’t kiss any other boys while I’m gone, okay?”
“What’s the matter, afraid I might make comparisons?” She laughed.
“How did you know?” He winked at her and walked down the steps without looking back, yelling at Hank to stop wearing out his best horn.
* * *
Abby spent her time with Melly, learning how to use the relevant computer programs. It gave the sisters time to talk and get reacquainted, and it gave Abby something to occupy her mind.
Even when Cade returned, she hardly saw him. He was up with the dawn and out past dark, getting everything ready for the roundup and the massive task of moving the cattle up to summer pasture. By the end of the week, Abby could pick out a single registered bull from the herd records, print out the information required and do it without losing a single punctuation mark.
Meanwhile, Cade, in his spare time, dictated one letter after another to Melly and answered the flood of phone calls that never seemed to stop. The next week, Cade was called out from signing letters at his desk by one of the men when his prize-winning bull keeled over in the barn. He went stalking out the door with Abby at his heels. Melly and Jerry had gone out just after breakfast, and Abby was trying to keep up with Cade’s machine-gun dictation and quick temper all alone.
Abby followed him outside with a typed letter in her hand as he took the reins of his black gelding from one of the men and started to swing into the saddle.
“Cade, could you sign this letter before you go?” she called. “It’s about that new hay baler.”
“Oh, hell, I forgot,” he muttered. “Hand it here, honey.”
He propped it against the saddle and slashed his name in a bold scrawl across the bottom of it. “I’ll see if—”
“Mr. McLaren,” one of the new cowboys interrupted, reining up beside them. “Hank said to find you and tell you that the new tractor we just bought is busted. Axle broke clean in half on us while we were planting over in the bottoms. Hank says you want we should call that feller who sold it to us and see if it’s still under warranty. The other tractor’s still down, you know. Billy’s trying to fix it, and we loaned three out to Mr. Hastings and let Jones have one....”
“Oh, good God,” Cade muttered angrily. “All right, tell Hank to check with the salesman and see how long it will take to get a replacement.”
“Yes, sir,” the cowboy agreed politely. “And the hardware wants to know if you’ll want any more butane.”
Cade looked positively hunted. “They can wait until I get through looking at my sick bull, can’t they?” he asked the man. “Damn it, son, that bull cost me a quarter of a million dollars, and the insurance won’t heal my heart if he dies!” He glowered at the cowboy. “Tell Jerry to take care of it.”
“Uh, he’s kind of busy,” the young cowboy muttered, avoiding Cade’s eyes.
“Doing what?” came the terse reply.
“Uh, he and Miss Melly are down at their house, her house, checking paint swatches...”
Cade’s cheeks colored darkly with temper. “You get down there and tell Jerry I said he can stop that kind of thing. I pay him to run this damned ranch, not to go around checking paint swatches on my time!”
“Yes, sir, Mr. McLaren!” He saluted and rode quickly away.
Abby was watching Cade
with twinkling eyes. It was something else to watch him delegate. He did it well, and his temper mostly amused the men because it was never malicious.
He turned, catching that gleam in her eyes, and cocked an eyebrow at her from under the wide-brimmed hat. “Something tickle your fancy, Miss Shane?”
“You,” she admitted quietly. “I just stand in awe of you, Mr. McLaren.”
He chuckled softly. “And you thought a rancher’s life was all petting cattle, I suppose?”
“I grew up here,” she reminded him. “But I never realized just how much work it was until I started helping Melly. How do you stand it, Cade?”
“I’m used to it.” He was holding the reins in one hand, but he reached out and drew his fingers down her cheek. “I love it. The way you love the glitter of your own work, I imagine, miss model.”
“I wish you wouldn’t make fun of what I do,” she said sadly, searching his dark eyes. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am. And modeling is much more than painting on a pretty face and smiling.”
He withdrew his hand and lit a cigarette. “It must seem pretty tame to you out here.”
“Tame?” Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding?”
He frowned thoughtfully, and his searching eyes caught hers. They stared at each other quietly, while the silence grew tense and electric around them, and her lips parted under a wild rush of breath.
His breath was coming hard, too. He dropped the reins as if he couldn’t help himself and moved close, so that she could feel the heat of his body and the smell of the spicy cologne that clung to him. Her eyes went to his mouth and she wanted it so much that she ached with the wanting.
His steely fingers bit into her waist. “Want to kiss me, Abby Shane?” he asked roughly.
“Very much,” she whispered, unembarrassed and unintimidated as she looked into his darkening eyes. “Lift me up, please...”
She felt his hands contract, and she seemed to float within reach of that chiseled mouth. Her hands slid around his neck to the back of his head and she eased her mouth onto his, letting her lips part softly as they touched him.
