Sandra Chastain (3 page)

“We’re here, McCall.”

That was the extent of her conversation. Cade nodded and followed her inside. A plump gray-haired woman identified as Letty led him up the center stairs to the upper level and down the curved hallway to the left.

“You’re in the guest wing of the house,” she explained. “Rusty’s room is opposite yours, across the courtyard in the other wing.” After taking a long assessing look at Cade, she smiled and nodded as if in approval. She told him that dinner would be served in forty-five minutes and left the room.

He might have told her that he hadn’t expected a ranch hand applying for a job to be invited to have dinner with the owner, but he wasn’t just any hired hand. He was auditioning as a husband.

Cade allowed himself for a moment to wonder exactly what Rusty Wilder had in mind. The kind
of experience she was seeking wasn’t something he could put on a job application. And there were no references to be checked. Mrs. Wilder would have to take a calculated risk. Or ask for a demonstration.

That thought set his blood pulsating and refused to be dismissed. Cade felt his body begin to react. He should have gone into Fairbanks a day early. But the only woman he’d known intimately had married last year. Until now, he’d thought that he’d closed off that part of his life. He groaned.

There wasn’t even a snowbank nearby to plunge into. A cold shower would have to do. Then he’d take a look in his bag. Eugene had packed it, and knowing Eugene’s eclectic taste, its contents might prove to make the evening even more interesting.

The private bathroom offered both a Jacuzzi and a shower. He choose the shower, crossing his fingers that the water was cold and the pressure firm. He wasn’t disappointed. An electric razor was plugged into the wall, and he used it. He wondered if it had been placed there for him or if some other occupant had left it behind.

When he returned to his bedroom, he found a pair of dark slacks and a gray striped shirt laid out on his bed, new clothes that he’d never seen before. Even Eugene hadn’t gone this far.

Cade picked up the shirt and fingered the soft finish of the fabric—expensive, imported. He frowned. The woman wasn’t kidding when she said that she was offering him employment with special privileges. He was being bought, from the skin out. And Cade McCall was not now and never
had been for sale. He’d earn his own way, for himself and for Pixie—somehow or other.

Cade emptied his duffel bag and sighed with relief. Eugene’s choices were good. He found a fresh blue chambray shirt and a clean pair of jeans. His only concession to formality was donning the new pair of sleek black running shoes he’d bought in Fairbanks before he left.

Closing the last button, he stepped out onto the veranda circling the second floor of the house. It was cold outside, but he was used to it. He needed it. In the distance he could hear the soft lowing of cattle that he could no longer see. Creeping up the posts below were brown vines that would bring colorful sweet-smelling flowers when the weather warmed. And in the enclosed courtyard beneath the porch he could hear the sound of water running in a fountain. This kind of luxury seemed about as out of place against the stark Utah landscape as he did.

The expensive perfume worn by the woman standing behind him was out of place too.

Rusty didn’t speak. Her ability to sustain silence was unnerving. He’d never met a woman who didn’t feel the need to fill an awkward space with chatter. This one simply waited. But he could feel her eyes on his back. He couldn’t see what she was wearing, and he fought the urge to turn around.

After a long silence he said, “Silverwild ranch is impressive. Your husband must have been a man of vision to carve all this out of a desert.”

“It was my father, and he was more than that. He lived for this ranch—and me, of course. His only disappointment was that he produced only one child.”

“I suppose he wanted a son, to inherit all this?”

“He never said so. I don’t think he ever doubted my ability to handle whatever needed handling.”

But he had, she admitted in that secret part of herself that she managed to seal off most of the time. He wasn’t certain that she was strong enough to follow his dream. That’s why he took Ben in as a partner, grooming him to take over. Her father hadn’t realized that Ben was only a shadow of himself. She’d known, but she had never been able to oppose her father’s wishes. So she’d married a man twenty years her senior because her father had asked her to. Of course she hadn’t expected Ben to have a heart attack during the first year of their marriage and live out his remaining years as a quarrelsome housebound invalid.

McCall was both commanding and disturbing. Not at all like her husband in temperament or character. Cade McCall was his own man, and she knew without a doubt that though she might buy him, she’d never own him.

“Letty will serve dinner in five minutes, McCall. Don’t be late. Letty doesn’t allow that from anybody. I wouldn’t advise you to make an enemy of her.”

Cade heard a silken swish, then silence.

He threaded his fingers through his hair. She was right. He should have turned and greeted her. Perversity was both childish and demeaning. He was being interviewed for a job, a job that provided a home for his child. Nothing more. She was giving him six months to decide how permanent it would be. He certainly didn’t have to marry her. Nothing was going to pay as well as pipeline work,
but being a wealthy man had never mattered much. If a job on the ranch didn’t work out, at least he’d have Pixie in a better place while he had time to find something else.

A few minutes later he was following the sound of Rusty’s voice as she gave directions to Letty. He found her in the large room in the center of the house that formed the inner curve of the U-shaped structure. Large overstuffed cream-colored couches circled a massive rock fireplace where a fire roared red and orange in the hearth.

She was standing in the shadows, the scent of her perfume exciting his senses once again. By the time he took a good look at her, Cade had the strong feeling that he should skip dinner altogether. His insides churned as if he’d already eaten locoweed.

She was wearing her hair pulled back by silver combs. Her dress was loose and long, like the kind some island woman might have worn after the coming of the missionaries. With a high neckline and full sleeves it was designed to conceal. The imagination, however, was more stimulating than any open physical display, and Cade quickly decided that Mrs. Wilder’s gown was the most provocative garment he’d ever seen. Its shimmering color was the same shade as her hair, the color of fire. Tiny little mirrors were stitched across the shoulders and around the hem. Every movement reflected a hundred shimmering flames that licked out at him with every breath she took.

“So, what’s the deal, Mrs. Wilder?” he asked in a clipped voice.

“Not yet, McCall. Dinner first. Then business.”

“You know, there’s no way in hell I can sit across
from you and eat without being told what this is all about.”

“Oh, I think you can. I think you can probably do whatever you set your mind to, McCall.”

She turned and led the way into a dining room only a fraction smaller than the great room. She hoped she’d put enough distance between them to help her control her own turbulent emotions.

A long dark wooden table that could have seated a dozen people had been set for two, one plate at one end, one at the other. A brass chandelier cast soft light across the room.

Cade glanced at the arrangement and smiled. She wasn’t taking any chances. She wasn’t going to explain a thing until she was ready and knew how to protect herself.

Holding out her chair, he waited until she sat down. When his hands grazed her shoulders, he was rewarded with a slight start, then absolute stillness, and a measured “Thank you.”

At the other end of the table, Cade unfolded his napkin and waited as Letty appeared from the kitchen with a tureen of soup.

“Nice—whatever that is you’re wearing,” he said, and began to eat his soup. “The mirrors seem to set you on fire.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. He was the first man she’d met who hadn’t been in awe of her. And she admitted that wearing the red-orange gown had been a perverse attempt to rattle his composure. She couldn’t be certain what she’d accomplished because he was so adept at hiding his emotions.

A small salad replaced the soup.

“You’re not quite what I expected,” Rusty finally admitted as the salad plates were removed.

He looked up. Even from his end of the table he could feel a certain wavering in her bearing. Her fiery appearance and her cool demeanor seemed in disagreement with each other, and he wondered if he might be sending out the same mixed signals. “Oh? Your report leave out something?”

It left out what kind of man you are, she could have said. It didn’t tell her how difficult this would be, nor did it suggest how uncertain she’d feel in his presence.

The main course of vegetables and rare roast beef was a diversion that Rusty used to the fullest while she collected her erratic thoughts and replied, “No, the report was rather complete. Now it’s my turn. Why did you answer my ad?”

“Like you told me,” he said, watching the main course being replaced by a kind of custard with cinnamon sprinkled on top, “food first, business later. By the way, ma’am,” he complimented Letty as she refilled his glass with wine, “you’re a very good cook. This meal is a definite improvement over the cooking I’m used to.”

Letty didn’t try to control her smile of appreciation. “Thank you, young man. You look like you could use a good meal or two. You’re too thin. Don’t they feed you up there in the wilderness?”

“Alaska isn’t all wilderness, ma’am. But we don’t get food like this as troubleshooters out on the pipeline. Our cook, Eugene, is into beans, bacon, and biscuits. He doesn’t have much imagination and”—he glanced at Rusty—“he certainly isn’t much for stimulating dinner conversation.”

“Humph!” Letty said with a sharp look at Rusty.
“I expect that he’d be an improvement over eating with a person who seems to have forgotten good conversation is the leavening for a good meal, not to mention the measure of her upbringing.”

“Letty! We’ll have coffee in the study.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Letty said in a tone of exaggerated servitude. “But you—” she leaned down and whispered in Cade’s ear, “you sneak back into the kitchen later, and I’ll leave a nice piece of pie in the fridge for you.”

“Icebox pie, no doubt,” he said with a wink.

“Not on your life, sugar. It’s fresh apple—make my own crust too.” Letty paused and looked at Rusty. “Willadean used to like it best of all, before she got too—too full of—”

“ ‘Willadean’?” Cade couldn’t help himself. The chuckle that escaped spread a smile across his face he couldn’t control. This redheaded paragon of control was really named Willadean? There was a chance for her yet.

“Letty, the coffee,” Rusty said curtly.

Cade gave Letty a wink and ambled to his feet, following his hostess into the paneled room where he’d found her earlier. The fire had burned down. A grandfather clock outside the door chimed out the hour—seven o’clock. Someone had turned on the lamps, revealing a room that was both masculine and comfortable. In an alcove was an oversize oak desk piled with paperwork. An adjoining wing of the desk housed a small computer and printer.

He lifted an eyebrow. “A computer?”

“I’m determined to make this ranch a modern, efficient operation, McCall. It has to be. Competition is fierce. The odds for success are against us. There is only so much usable water in the state,
and there is an ongoing battle over it between the farmers and the ranchers. I have to know where I am and where the ranch stands at any given moment.”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Keeping up with the competition, staying ahead of the odds?”

Rusty couldn’t hold back a sigh. “Sometimes. Sometimes not.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Not that it will make any difference to you, but if you choose to accept my proposal, you’re entitled to know. Drought has changed the way we do business. We’re fighting against government regulations, manpower shortages, higher prices, and the weather.”

“Pretty much the same problems I have as a pipeline troubleshooter—weather, competition, and maintenance—universal enemies of profit and success.”

“All of which could change if my new breeding program produces a drought-resistant beef cow, as I expect it to.”

“Drought-resistant cows? What are you doing—crossing cows with camels?”

“Almost. As I mentioned when we were flying in, I’ve bought a new bull, from Africa. He’s the first of a new experimental line of cattle that can live on less water for longer periods of time.”

“Do you really think it will work?”

“My competition doesn’t.”
And neither does my banker
, Rusty could have added. She poured the coffee and offered a cup to Cade. “How do you take it?”

“Straight, just like I do my information. When do we get to the why-hire-Cade-McCall answers?”

“All right. I’ll try to explain. At least we can get the main issue resolved before we agree on the contract.”

“And what is the main issue?”

“The special services I require, Cade.”

“I’d be interested in hearing about those. I thought range wars went out with the nineteenth century. I’m not a hired gun. I know nothing about cattle ranching, and I don’t have a penny to my name. So what could I possibly have to offer you?”

She took a sip of coffee and looked down at the cup with a frown. “I don’t quite know how to begin.”

“Start with the ad. I was under the impression that you were simply a widow who needed a hired hand. Then I learn that you want a man you can groom to be a husband. Obviously, now that I’ve seen you, that isn’t the whole truth. You could probably marry any man you wanted. What do you really want from me?”

Rusty fought the low-grade tremor that kept her knees unsteady. She put the cup down on the table and turned her back to the probing eyes of the man standing too close to her. It wasn’t too late to back out. She could simply give him a bonus check and say she’d changed her mind. Every sane thought in her mind urged her to do so. Every emotion that she’d kept long submerged surged forward to block out her reservations.