Silken Threads

by Barrie, Monica

  “May I speak with you for a moment?” came Kirk’s voice.

  The anger that had fled at the onslaught of her loneliness returned the instant she heard his voice. Without thinking, she opened the door. In the flash of time it took for the door to open completely, she saw he was dressed in a pair of gray slacks and wore a deep blue blazer. His dark hair, wet and combed back, was the color of midnight. “What?”

  “Dinner,” he said, his eyes never leaving her face.

  “What for?”

  “To eat.”

  “After the way you treated me? What the hell do you think I am?”

  “My new boss.”

  “You have a lot of nerve. You make me feel like I did something wrong just because I don’t know your ways. You look down on me, hardly condescending to talk to me, and when you do, all I hear is sarcasm. And now you want to have dinner with me?” she asked incredulously, her anger beginning to fade.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

  “Stop that!”

  “Apologizing?”

  “Calling me ma’am. My name is Cassandra!”

  “What about dinner?”

  “When?” she asked, realizing she hadn’t eaten since breakfast on the plane ten hours before.

  “I guess after you get dressed, unless you’re going in a towel?” he said, moving his eyes for the first time to the terrycloth material, which barely covered her from her breasts to the top of her thighs.

  Cassandra’s face turned red and she stepped back. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a little while,” she told him as she started to close the door.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a slow grin.

  Closing the door, Cassandra leaned against it and took several deep breaths. Damn his infuriating smile! But, her anger was gone. He had apologized, in a fashion, and for right now, she was willing to accept it.

  Worse, she realized, it didn’t seem to matter how angry she’d been at him, she wanted to forgive him—but only because she needed him to help with the ranch, she told herself.

  Chapter Six

  Cassandra finished brushing her hair, stepped back, and looked in the mirror. In the forty minutes since she’d had her strange conversation with Kirk, she’d put the time to good use.

  A large tortoiseshell barrette held her long hair in place by, keeping the ever-errant strands away from her face. She’d used only a small amount of makeup to accent her features, with no base and just a hint of blush on her cheeks; the lipstick was a dark peach shade, a complement to her complexion. Her eyes understated by using only a glimmer of liner to accenting the soft green. Her naturally long eyelashes had an even coat of mascara, which, she had determined, was enough makeup for Sheridan, Wyoming.

  She’d chosen her outfit with care, trying to blend in with the environment. The pale green dress was simple and stylish, falling smoothly to just below her knees and secured at the waist by a contrasting tan elastic belt that matched her saddle tan heels. The only jewelry she wore was a thin bracelet, simple hoop earrings, and the single golden S-chain necklace she never took off.

  You won’t find any fault tonight, she told the smiling image of Kirk North lurking at the edges of her thoughts.

  With that, Cassandra picked up her purse and started from the room, hoping they would make it through dinner in a civil manner. Yet with that thought, a strange feeling of anticipation mixed with the uncertainty of the unknown, making her wonder just what she was expecting to happen tonight.

  ~~~~

  Kirk nursed his barely touched drink. He had been waiting at the small bar for a half hour, and during that time, he had never stopped thinking of Cassandra.

  Every moment he spent with her was like slow torture. He hated what she represented, even as he desired the woman she was. She was a chameleon, he realized. One minute she was a warm and friendly person, and the next, she was as distant as the moon. Yet, several times Kirk glimpsed something hidden beneath the hard mask of a facade Cassandra Leeds wore. Whenever he lowered his guard, she would change into the hard shallow city woman he’d met yesterday.

  At one point, when they’d declared an unspoken truce on the plane, Kirk had begun to open up to her. Then at Hank Lomax’s ranch, she’d again showed herself for what she was—a city girl bothered by a little dirt.

  Then she’d surprised him when they’d returned to the motel, where she had shown him yet another side of her. “You’re a real prick, but you’re not going to scare me off,” she’d told him. He hadn’t smiled at the time, but after the door closed, he’d had. At least she had a temper, and some spunk to go with it.

  Kirk had showered and shaved, and after he’d dressed, he’d rethought the day. He questioned his motives and the reasons why he was treating her so harshly. He didn’t like the answers he’d given himself.

  He knew she was from a different world than he and was used to certain things foreign to him. Kirk knew he’d been rough with her and knew he was to blame.

  She wasn’t disappointing me, he’d told himself, I’m disappointing me. With that thought, Kirk realized he’d been letting Cassandra and her father rule his actions. He resented having to babysit a grown woman because of a spoiled whim. He also resented the fact that his emotions were fighting his common sense. He had to think of Cassandra as his ward, not as the woman who, if she were just a little different, he would have desired as no other.

  Kirk sensed a loneliness in her, the type of emotion that brought out in him, an obligation to help ease her into her new life. He knew all too well, what it was like to be alone in the world. The least he could do was not to let her feel totally alienated.

  That’s why he’d gone to her room and, in his offhanded way, apologized for his treatment of her. Tonight, he promised himself, lifting the drink and gazing at his reflection in the bar mirror, I will act like a gentleman.

  With his mind made up, he put down his drink. Then he saw Cassandra walk into the lounge. He didn’t move. For a moment, he just stared into the mirror, his chest strangely tight.

  She looked too good to be real. Her dress fit like a glove, and he could see the rise and fall of her full breasts through the material. The clasped belt accented the narrow yet perfect symmetry of her waist.

  Turning slowly, he gazed directly into her eyes. “Drink?”

  Cassandra shook her head, unwilling to take the chance her voice might fail. She had steeled herself against any reaction to Kirk, but when she saw him, her heart began to race out of control.

  “Shall we eat?”

  At last, she managed a word. “Yes.”

  Kirk stood and took her elbow in his hand. Cassandra stiffened but forced herself to ignore the tentacles of fire emanating from his touch.

  Seated, Cassandra was thankful the small dining room was traditional motel style—bright lights and Formica tabletops rather than soft lights and…

  The hostess handed them their menus, and Cassandra looked hers over.

  “It’s not Le Blanc, but you can trust the steaks.”

  Her eyes flicked over the top of the menu to see if he was being sarcastic, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Thank you,” she replied, fighting the tension again laying claim to her every action.

  A few moments later a smiling waitress appeared, dressed in a cowgirl outfit. “May I take your orders?” she asked sweetly, looking directly at Kirk.

  A flare of anger surged at this slight, but Cassandra quickly squelched her feelings when Kirk, ignoring the waitress, looked at her. “Have you made up your mind?” he asked.

  Cassandra gave him a full smile. “I think I’ll have the New York cut, rare,” she stated, looking at the waitress, whose face was now a beet-red from the unspoken reprimand of Kirk’s answer.

  “And I’ll have the same,” Kirk stated.

  After taking the salad and vegetable orders, the waitress hurriedly left, and Cassandra was again aware of Kirk’s intense scrutiny. “Thank you,” she said.

  Kirk nodded his head in a simple ges
ture. Before they could start another conversation, the waitress reappeared with their salads.

  ~~~~

  Cassandra glanced at Kirk over the rim of her coffee cup. The meal had been more pleasant than she’d expected. They had talked, but only lightly, never once delving into a tension creating topic. By the time coffee came, she was pleasantly relaxed.

  “The food was excellent, especially the steak,” she commented after putting her cup down.

  “That’s what the West is known for,” Kirk replied, “but I’m glad you enjoyed it. Tired?” he asked. “It’s been a long day.” Even so, Kirk was used to longer days. At the ranch, he was up by five and worked late into the evenings.

  “Not really; besides, we gained two hours during the flight.”

  “There’s not a whole lot to do around here at night, except for a few honky-tonks. Ever been to one?”

  “No.”

  “Want to?”

  Warily Cassandra wondered if he was putting her on or not. She decided not. “I’d love to. I’m not ready for sleep yet.”

  Kirk called for the check, signed it, and escorted Cassandra to the rented car. Before she got in, she looked up. Her breath caught for a moment as the beauty of the western sky spread out in all its glory.

  It was a moonless night, but even without the luminescence of the pale globe, the silver light of countless stars filled the sky. Not a cloud was in the sky, and the sparkling stars were a calming vision of delight.

  “I’ve never seen a sky like this anywhere in the world,” she whispered as she finally got into the car.

  They drove in a vastly different silence than the last time they had been in the car. Ten minutes after leaving the motel’s restaurant, they entered a small country and western lounge incongruously named the Cow Palace.

  The instant Cassandra stepped inside, she felt like a foreigner. Even though she’d taken pains to wear something that was not out of place, she had overdressed in comparison to the other women, who wore jeans or light cotton skirts. Everyone wore cowboy boots; she wore fashionably expensive shoes.

  Forcing herself to put on an air of disinterest, Cassandra followed Kirk to a small table, where they sat and ordered drinks.

  At the far end of the lounge, a trio, two men and a woman, played instruments and sang mournful love songs. “Why are all country songs so sad?” she asked.

  “They reflect life,” Kirk responded, his gaze once again intense.

  Cassandra tried to relax as much as possible, but whenever she looked at the dance floor, all she could see were people dancing and holding each other close, seeming to be apart from the rest of the world. There was an undercurrent in the lounge, a suppressed feeling of excitement that came close to a sense of belonging, that everyone seemed to share. Everyone except her.

  It was a feeling she found herself envying. Shoring up her image of nonchalance, she made her eyes take on a bored, uncaring glaze.

  “What do you think?” Kirk asked after studying her obviously well rehearsed reactions for several long minutes.

  “It’s different,” she admitted honestly.

  “Is that bad or good?”

  “Neither.”

  “This, too, is part of ranch life. After working hard all day, and all week, the hands come to places like this, where they can be themselves and enjoy their free time.”

  “They all seem to have a sort of…camaraderie.”

  “When they’re not fighting.” Kirk accented his words with a short laugh.

  “Do they do that a lot?”

  “Depends on what you mean by a lot. Cassandra,” he said, his voice changing as he spoke her name. To Cassandra it sounded like more of a caress than a word. “Why are you going to Twin Rivers?”

  Cassandra took a deep breath, intuitively sensing the time for game-playing and immutable facades was over. The tension returned, enveloping them in a shroud of solitude that made her conscious at this very point in time, something was changing between them. She thought of twenty lies to tell him but discarded each. In her heart, as well as in her mind, she knew only the truth would do.

  “I have to. I need to.”

  “Need to what?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes piercing.

  “It’s very complicated....”

  “So is life, Cassandra, and you’ve put yourself into my life. You’re going to be watching the job I do. All I want to know is why.”

  Cassandra laughed lightly but did not break eye contact. “My first impulse was to say ‘it’s none of your business,’ but it is. Kirk….” Cassandra paused to collect her thoughts. “I’ve spent my life doing absolutely nothing other than having fun and spending my father’s money with a vengeance. I’m twenty-seven years old and I’ve come to realize that pretty soon I’ll have wasted my life, unless I…”

  Kirk watched her carefully. He had sensed from the moment she first started speaking, her words were coming from the heart. When she stopped to look at him with her large eyes, he’d seen her waiting for him to respond. Instead, he waited silently.

  “You don’t make things very easy,” she said, lowering her voice as the music ended.

  “All I asked was a simple question.”

  “But the answer’s complicated. I have to prove to myself I can do something useful with my life.” She didn’t know why it was so important for Kirk to understand what she was saying, it just was.

  “So you went to your, father and asked him to give you Twin Rivers?”

  “Not exactly. I asked him to give me a chance to change my life, to prove I could be good in business. Twin Rivers was his idea.”

  “It doesn’t seem a logical choice to me,” Kirk commented lightly, but his eyes were anything but light.

  “Oh, it was very logical,” Cassandra stated in bitter, hushed tones.

  Kirk waited patiently for her to continue, but she didn’t. It was as if a curtain had fallen across her eyes and did not reopen for several seconds.

  Cassandra tried to rid her mind of the old fear her words had evoked. There were two parts to her father’s plan. The first she couldn’t tell Kirk about, the other she could.

  “If I... we don’t make a profit this year, then I’ll have to end my short-lived career and fulfill the bargain I made with my father. If Twin Rivers doesn’t go into the black, I’ll have to do something I don’t want to.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to work together to make the ranch profitable. But it won’t be easy,” Kirk said, momentarily lowering his defenses in the face of her own confession and, at the same time, wondering about Gregory Leeds’ words to him about Cassandra.

  Cassandra heard him but could not believe he was actually saying the words. Yet the look on his face was enough to lend belief.

  “I…I’ll need your help, Kirk,” she admitted aloud for the first time.

  Kirk tensed. Her unexpected plea struck him hard. He wanted to reach out and hold her. “I’m willing to try,” he said instead.

  “Thank you. But, as you said, it won’t be easy.”

  “It won’t be that hard.”

  “It has to be. You see, Father wouldn’t take a chance on losing. He always wins, and he doesn’t want me to succeed.”

  Kirk’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Father doesn’t think I have a chance to make the ranch show a profit.”

  “How can you be so certain?” Kirk asked, his voice sharp as he sat straighter.

  Cassandra wouldn’t tell him the main reason—her fear—but she had sensed when she’d gone over the books something wasn’t right about Twin Rivers’ losses. Too many of them had seemed unnecessary, even in her inexperienced judgment.

  “He seemed so confident I wouldn’t be able to make the ranch profitable, as if there were some sort of a fail-safe means to stop profits,” she reiterated. Then she took yet another deep breath and smiled at Kirk. “You never asked me about the man in the lobby.”

  “It was none of my business,” Kirk replied, only half tr
uthfully. He had wanted to know, but he would never ask; that wasn’t his way.

  “His name is Somner Barwell. He’s rich and considered one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. He’s part of this, too. Kirk, if I fail, I lose more than just a career; I lose my life. The bargain I made with my father was…if Twin Rivers stays in the red, I have to marry Somner.”

  It took Kirk a few seconds for the full impact of her words to register. It took another moment for him to speak. “This isn’t the eighteen-hundreds. Arranged marriages are part of the past. He can’t force you to marry anyone, no matter what he says.”

  “My father is a very powerful man. So is Somner Barwell’s father. They want this marriage. Kirk, men like my father are the new royalty of the world. Marriages between these ‘royal’ families happen all the time. It promotes business and lessens competition.”

  “What about you? Doesn’t he care about you? You’re not a possession, you have a mind of your own,” Kirk stated, angry at the machinations of the upper echelons of the business world.

  Cassandra couldn’t help the surge of pleasure his words gave her. “He cared about me once, but now I think he cares more about his companies. Still, I made a promise. I never break my promises,” Cassandra whispered. “I have to go through with this. Especially after yesterday. Kirk, I never knew Somner could be like—he frightened me; he was a stranger.”

  Kirk studied her face intently. “Then I guess we have no choice but to make a profit.”

  “If we can,” Cassandra restated, not letting her happiness at his agreement shadow reality. “But I still think Father has an ace in the hole he hopes will let him win.”

  “So do I,” Kirk said suddenly. “But doesn’t it make this deal of yours invalid if he knows you can’t possibly turn a profit?”

  Cassandra shook her head. There might be something hidden, but she was sure her father was counting on her fear of horses more than anything else. “My father can be devious, and he’s a hard businessman. He’s never lied to me. Even if the deck is stacked in his favor, there’ll be a way to win. We just have to find it.”