by Donna Ball
"Hell, take him with you. We'll put him in the presidential suite at the MGM Grand."
Shane chuckled, leaned back in the webbed chair and stretched his bare legs out in the sun. "No thanks. Gambling's a vice, and you ought to know better. When are you going to start acting your age and settle down?"
"When they bury me, son. When they bury me. Speaking of which, how's it going with the matchmaker?"
Shane frowned. Lately that was his reaction whenever Cassie Averil crossed his mind. "I think your matchmaker’s a nut," he said without qualification. "You know what she told me? There's no such thing as love, she said. She calls herself a matchmaker. I mean, she's dealing with people's lives here, and she doesn't even believe in romance. She thinks she can fix people up just like you'd separate oranges from apples. How'd she ever get into this business in the first place?"
"Well, now, that sounds mighty funny coming from you. You're the one who thought all it took to find a wife was making up your mind."
Shane's frown deepened. Cassie had said something similar, and he still didn't like the implication. Maybe he had gone about the whole thing a little forcefully, but he had never been as clinical as Cassie Averil was. He hadn't really expected to just meet a woman and marry her. He knew there had to be some courtship involved, some romance, some falling in love. The only thing he had been cloudy on was how that was supposed to happen, and he supposed what disturbed him most now was the fact that he had never given much thought to how complicated the whole process could be.
"I just didn't expect her to be so coldhearted," he said, and he was thinking about what had happened after he had kissed her. She had responded to him. He had felt the layers of ice melting away and turning to steam, and for a moment kissing her had been the single most exciting, absorbing and fulfilling experience of his life. And then there she was with her school-teacher's smile, closing the door in his face. A man didn't forget a thing like that.
"Cassie Averil isn't coldhearted," Jack said. "She's just got her own way of doing things. Wait till you get to know her. You'll see."
The puppy had pushed the tennis ball into the pool, and Shane got up to retrieve it. "Maybe I don't want to get to know her. Who needs that kind of trouble? As far as I'm concerned—"
The telephone beeped in his ear. Shane held it away from his face and scowled. Of all the modern conveniences that awaited him when he returned to civilization, Call Waiting was his least favorite. "Wait a minute. It's probably another salesman with some great swampland in Florida."
"Take it," Jack advised. "With your luck the coastline will probably shift and you'll end up owning beachfront property. I'll hold."
Shane grinned and depressed the button. It was Cassie Averil, and he couldn't believe the way his heart started beating a little faster when he heard her voice. "Well," he drawled, "fancy hearing from you."
"I've got some good news for you, I think." Her voice sounded pleasant and professional, but he thought he detected a trace of breathlessness. When he pictured her in his mind, it was with her hair down and a gold locket lying between her breasts. "I've found someone I'd like you to meet. I think you two could be perfect for each other."
"Oh, yeah? Tell me about her."
"It's usually better if I do that in person. Could you come into the office this afternoon?"
There was nothing Shane would have liked better than to see her today, even if it was to discuss another woman. But some perversity, solely generated by the memory of their last encounter, caused him to reply, "I can't today. How about tomorrow?"
She hesitated. "Tomorrow's Saturday."
"No problem. Why don't you drive out here and we'll go for a swim. You can tell me all about her between laps."
A note of stubbornness came into her own voice. "I have to do my laundry on Saturday."
"Sunday, then. That's better, anyway. The construction crew won't be here. Less noise."
Again there was a long silence. "I was hoping you'd be able to meet her this weekend."
It gave Shane a devilish sense of satisfaction to suggest, "You could bring her along."
"I'll see you Sunday. Alone."
"Good. I sleep late on Sundays, so not before noon, okay? And don't forget to bring your suit."
She hung up. Shane depressed the button again, grinning broadly. "Guess who that was?" he asked Jack.
***
Sunday dawned clear and hot, perfect for a pool party. Cassie was unimpressed. Though she had to admit a certain curiosity about the way Shane lived, she had no intention of turning the afternoon into a party of any sort. She was still a little irritated with him for postponing the meeting for two days, anyway. He was the one who had set the month deadline, not she. And now he was acting as though he didn't care whether she made it or not. Or perhaps he was simply trying to make her job more difficult, which wouldn't surprise her in the least. Well, she wasn't going to play his game. She would go out there, because that was part of her job, but she wouldn't stay any longer than was absolutely necessary. Nor did she have any intention of letting this turn into a social occasion.
But she spent an inordinate amount of time standing before her closet, wishing she had something new to wear. She pulled out a pair of shorts, but decided they weren't at all appropriate attire for a business meeting. The gray suit was stifling on a day like this, and not even for Shane Bartlett would she force herself to wear business clothes on a Sunday. She practically ripped the suit off in disgust and left it lying in a pile on the floor.
She tried on a pair of linen slacks and a silk blouse, which was technically perfect for the occasion. She found a dozen things wrong with it. The long-sleeved nblouse was too hot, the slacks needed pressing, the colors made her look washed out. The truth was, the outfit simply wasn't feminine enough. It was Sunday; she had a right to look feminine if she wanted, didn't she?
Wasting no more time on debate, she stepped into a cotton sundress with a low, square neckline and a long, full skirt. The last time she had worn it had been at a barbecue given by one of her clients; there was simply no room in her everyday life for something as playful as a sundress. But it was cool, it was flattering, and it was casual. She didn't want Shane Bartlett to think she had gone to any particular trouble on his behalf.
Not daring to look in the mirror lest she change her mind, Cassie gathered her hair in a ponytail and glanced at her watch. It was already past noon. She gave Fluffy a quick scratch behind the ears, picked up Mindy Howard's file and left the apartment.
Five seconds later she returned, hurried back to the bedroom and stuffed her swimsuit in her purse. She left without looking back.
The drive took over half an hour, and Cassie couldn't understand why anyone would choose to live so far out of town unless he intended to raise livestock, which Shane had positively assured her over dinner that he didn't. Mindy Howard professed a love for country living, but Cassie had never seen the appeal.
She saw the stone gates of Long Acre and turned left onto a drive that wound for half a mile before the house even came into view. Along the way she noticed fenced in meadows empty of cattle, a shimmering pond occupied by two ducks, and smooth green fields stretching away on either side. She had to admit that it was pretty.
The area around the big brick house was littered with construction debris and piles of earth, and the place looked deserted. There was a construction trailer off to the side, sheltered by the shade of a big oak, and she went there first. No one answered her knock, or her call. She left the trailer and looked around curiously.
The sound of laughter reached her, accompanied by splashing and a background drift of music. He was having a party. And all this time she had pictured him wasting, away in solitude out here in the middle of nowhere. She should have known better; men were all alike.
Mastering her dismay, she followed the sounds of poolside fun around the house, across a flagstone patio and through a sheltered courtyard until it opened on a turquoise-tiled, kidney-shaped po
ol. Plush-cushioned longue chairs were arranged in the sun, and a radio, tuned to a golden oldies station, was set up on a picnic table next to a big cooler. At the edge of the pool Shane pushed a beach ball back and forth between himself and a small brown-and-white puppy, who was paddling madly to keep his head above water and yipping happily whenever the ball came his way.
An indulgent smile tugged her lips as Cassie watched, and she couldn't deny the wave of tender amusement that swept her. How could anyone not like this man?
Shane saw her then and waved. He caught the puppy under one arm and lifted himself out of the water, causing the maternal affection Cassie had felt while watching him play to turn quickly to something else.
He was wearing a pair of small red briefs that clung to his pelvis like a second skin. Water smoothed the dark hair on his legs and chest into a molded pattern that followed the bronzed contours of his muscles. His hips were narrow, his legs were long and his chest was lean and well defined. His entire body was so... bare. Wow, Cassie thought to herself dazedly.
She was startled out of her absorption when a wet ball of fur hit her ankles.
"Sorry," Shane called. He snapped his fingers. "Whiskers, come here."
The dog ignored him, leaping excitedly up and down on Cassie's toes. To hide the sudden color in her cheeks, Cassie bent to pet the puppy, who immediately stopped jumping and shook himself, splattering Cassie's dress and sunglasses with water.
Shane laughed. "I told you to bring your swim-suit." He picked up a towel and dried his face as he came over to her. "Come here, you mutt."
He knelt beside her, and Cassie, who was wiping the water droplets off her glasses, had a blurred impression of tanned knees and muscular thighs. She quickly put her glasses back on so that she could see, but by that time Shane had scooped up the puppy and was standing. He set the puppy down in the direction of the grassy courtyard and sent it off to play with a pat. Then he turned back to Cassie. "Glad to see you found the place."
"Oh, sure." She got to her feet. "I've lived in Dallas all my life, and the Bureau of Tourism requires that every resident know the name and location of all the big ranches so that we can brag to outsiders. Fluffy thanks you for the roses, by the way."
"I'm glad she liked them. Do you think she'll marry me?"
"I'm afraid she's not your type, either. Too independent."
He grinned and draped the towel around his neck. "You look pretty today."
He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. The sundress was simple and feminine, and he liked the way an occasional breeze lifted it at the hem and curved it around her calves. The ponytail was girlish and casual, and the sunshine brought a blush to her skin that he had never noticed before. Every time he saw her she looked different, and the differences were always welcome. A man would never grow bored with a woman as full of surprises as she was.
"Thanks," she said. A dimple formed at the corner of her mouth. "You don't look too bad yourself."
"What, this old thing?" He gestured toward his briefs. "Just a little something I slipped on."
"Very little," agreed Cassie. For a moment they just stood there, smiling at each other, and then Cassie turned to look around. "Nice house. Jack did a good job."
"I told him what I wanted, and he somehow managed to get it all strung together. I guess I wasn't one of his easiest clients."
"Having worked with you, I can agree with that."
He moved to slip on a short-sleeved denim shirt, discarding the towel. "Just like I told you, I know what I want. It's still a mess inside, but I'll show you around if you like."
Cassie didn't hesitate to accept his offer, feeling certain that the design of his house would reflect the man... and hoping it would help her to understand him.
He took her around the pool and through a set of wide French doors, warning her to be careful of the loose lumber and sawhorses scattered about. The puppy squeezed past her and left his own set of muddy footprints in the wake of the large wet ones Shane tracked across the dusty tile.
They stood inside a large, airy kitchen that boasted glass-fronted cabinets, a big center work island and a vaulted ceiling. Spaces had been left for the appliances, and the countertops were a rich royal blue. Three steps down led to a dining area that overlooked the pool. Adjacent to that, through a set of swinging doors, was a formal dining room, and off the dining room was a barbecue patio with a mini kitchen and room for all the accoutrements. Cassie couldn't help smiling to herself. It figured that a large portion of Shane's house would be given over to the business of eating.
They circled through the dining room, went up three more steps and came into the main part of the house. The family room featured a cathedral ceiling, a mammoth fieldstone fireplace and a glass wall with a commanding view of the rich green meadows beyond. The walls were stucco, and a loft encircled the room on three sides.
"What a wonderful room," Cassie said in an awed tone as she approached the window. "I'd never get tired of looking at this view."
"Me, either. It feels like you can see forever out that window, doesn't it?"
Shane placed his hand lightly upon her shoulder as he stood beside her, and it was such a natural, companionable gesture that neither of them felt awkward standing close together and sharing the view. Cassie began to appreciate some of the advantages of living in the country.
"This is really great," she said, turning to survey the room again. Shane dropped his hand. "Big but cozy at the same time. I can picture it with chintz furniture arranged in little conversation groups, dried flower arrangements, maybe some cushions on the floor..."
"I picture big leather furniture and Navaho pottery."
Cassie started to argue, but remembered it wasn't her house and none of her business. She smiled ruefully. "The difference between men and women, I guess. Are you going to have a decorator in?"
"Jack says I have to. That's another reason I need a wife. What do I know about drapes and tables and slipcovers and such?"
“It's cheaper in the long run to hire a decorator."
He grinned. "But not nearly as much fun." He placed his hand on her back and continued the tour. "Over here is a game room and an exercise room with a real sauna and whirlpool. Off the exercise room is an indoor pool. It's not as big as the other one, of course, but it'll be nice to have if it ever does get cold."
They went up a flight of inner stairs and emerged in the shelf-lined loft. Cassie's imagination was racing with the possibilities for that loft—how she would decorate the shelves and arrange small reading and napping areas in the recesses. She thought a potted tree would look nice under the skylight, and even Shane liked that idea.
He showed her the master bedroom with its dais for the bed, its huge walk-in closets and its sunken tub and Jacuzzi. There was a balcony off the bedroom that, for the moment, overlooked a mound of earth, but which Shane told her would soon be transformed into a flower garden. Cassie could imagine taking her coffee out onto the balcony every morning, inhaling the dewy, flower-scented air and watching the sun rise. What kind of man would think of planting a flower garden beneath his bedroom window? A very unusual one, she decided.
He took her through more bedrooms and baths than she could count, showed her the view from every window and took her down a wide, curving staircase that opened onto an expansive foyer.
"If I have a daughter," he said, standing at the bottom of the stairs and looking back up, "she'll come down these stairs in a long white dress with the guests lined up from here to here." He gestured from the foyer to the great room opposite. "This is a great house for a wedding, don't you think?"
"Even your own," she pointed out.
"Yeah," he agreed, smiling. "I'd like that."
"So." He turned to her. "What do you think?"
"About the house?"
He nodded.
There seemed to be a touch of genuine anxiety in his expression, as though her opinion really mattered. Cassie smiled. "I think it's perfect. Peaceful,
comfortable, larger than life—just like you. I think," she added, "that your wife will be a very lucky woman." And, she thought to herself, for more reasons than were apparent in this spacious, custom-built home and the financial freedom it implied. It was the man whose thoughtful attention had gone into planning a place for his family who was the real prize.
They exited by the front door and Shane pointed out the landscaping he was planning, the most important of which, and obviously the most well thought out, was the children's play yard. The little boy that lingered in Shane was revealed as he enthusiastically described tunnels and rope swings, wooden forts and jungle gyms and an electric train that would carry its pint-size passengers from one part of the yard to the other.
Cassie laughed. "You must've spent the past six months with your head buried in an enormous toy catalog."
"I know," he agreed ruefully. "I'm running out of places to put all the stuff I want to buy."
Cassie chuckled and slipped her arm through his. "You're a funny man. Nice, but funny."
He looked a little surprised at her gesture, and his eyes went to her hand, looped through the crook of his elbow. But before she could draw away or regret the impulsive display of affection, his hand covered hers securely, holding it in place, and he responded smugly, "Thank you. I do my best."
They crossed the courtyard and came upon the pool again. The puppy, exhausted from exploring, lay down under a chair and was fast asleep in a matter of seconds. Cassie spared a brief moment of envy for the small animal's carefree life; it was Sunday, after all, and there was nothing she would have liked better than to stretch out in the sun and relax. But she had come here on business and she determinedly brought her mind back to the job at hand.
"Well," she said briskly, perching on the edge of a longue chair and pulling the file from her purse. "Let me tell you about Mindy Howard."
“Who?" Shane opened the cooler, pulled out a bottle of beer, then glanced at her curiously.
