Suspicions of the Heart (3 page)

"That's downright criminal! Do you
realize what you are saying?" She felt her voice rising in anger.
Drat! Did the man have to have all the victories? Lowering her gaze
to Lancer's leg, she dismissed this unwanted stranger.

But Joe Munroe wasn't being dismissed
so easily. Instead he stooped to join her, reaching for the injured
hoof as she did. Their fingers grazed, and Candy jerked her hand
away as if he had burned her on contact.

Dark satin eyes held her. "Steady. I'm
not going to hurt you."

Was he talking to Lancer, or her? His
big handmade slow circular movements down the roan's leg, and
Lancer responded to the gentle touch with a neigh.

Mesmerized by his actions, Candy tore
her gaze from his hands. He knew exactly what he was doing to
Lancer, and to her. She saw that when their glances collided. He
was one smooth operator, she'd give him that, but she wasn't about
to fall for a cowboy. She stood up, wanting to put distance between
herself and him.

"You're good with horses."

He threw back his head and chuckled
huskily. "I'm good with a lot of things, but better with horses and
cows."

"Uncle Roscoe says you're trying to
bring back the Longhorns. Is that true?"

His gaze roamed lazily over her,
assessing her. "Yes, but I didn't think it was common knowledge.
Your Uncle gets around, doesn't he? So….tell me, is something going
on between you and Doug Chapman?"

The air became suffocating. How had he
managed to change the subject so easily?

"That's none of your
business."

"Maybe," he said slowly watching her
face, "but then neither is my raising Longhorns your business.
Now," he moved toward her, as one might a frightened animal. "I
answered your question, care to answer mine?"

"I certainly won't," she fumed, as an
unwelcome blush crept up her face. Seeing the satisfied gleam in
his eyes she tried to move clear of him, but he reached out and
pulled her toward him.

He kept on pulling until she lost all
sense of balance and pivoted against him. "Then I guess there's
only one way to find out."

His gaze lowered to her gaping
mouth.

He wouldn't dare!

"No!"

"Yes," he murmured.

Without restraints, he held her
captive. When she opened her mouth to verbalize her objections, his
head bent the slight distance it took to silence her. Like a
paintbrush, his lips brushed teasingly against hers. Once, twice,
then without warning they came firmly down on hers. By now, all
thoughts of controlling the situation had dissolved into thin air.
Candy clung to the cowboy helplessly.

Intoxicating earthy odors filled her
nostrils. His hand gently cupped the back of her neck, as his long
fingers played delicately through the thickness of her dark red
hair.

The unexpected softness of his lips
took her by surprise. The curiosity of his kiss had her lingering.
Featherlike touches of his hand ran down her spine, sending a wave
of delightful shivers through her. She arched against him, as warm,
moist lips captured hers. Like a man asking questions, he sought
answers.

Her mind reeled. It was just a kiss.
So, why had her heart raced, her limbs trembled, and her will to
end it die? This was nothing like kissing Doug. It couldn't even
compare. This man knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he did
it so easy.

All too soon he began pulling away. He
gave her time to drift back to some semblance of sanity before his
hands fell to his sides.

Embarrassed by her own response, she
wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and looked away, then
directly at him. His gaze encompassed her without remorse or guilt.
He cleared his throat as though distracting himself.

He half smiled and shook his head in
what looked like amazement. "Yes ma'am, you sure answered that
question for me. And I think I better be saying goodnight, while I
still can." He backed away slowly.

She watched, motionless and wordless.
What could she say?

Chapter Two

Candy stood rigidly poised against the
mahogany desk; a ring less finger smeared the neat polish of
fine-grained wood.

The fresh smell of wood oil burned her
nose.

"Typical Fargate," she mumbled and
folded her arms over her chest as she walked toward the big glass
window. The office felt huge, as though it might swallow her. Like
its owner, it carried an empty and cold feeling. The high vaulted
ceilings and thick, dark curtains lent an air of royalty. Pushing
aside the heavy material, Candy peered out the window at the
traffic below.

She shook her head and let the curtain
fall back in place. Dear God, things had changed so much since
she'd last been here.

Skyscrapers clouded the pastel heavens.
A shroud of red dust blanketed the city from the immense
construction going on everywhere. It was nice to see the flying red
horse gracing the Dallas skyline again though, almost
comforting.

Still, the city was no place for Candy
Arnold. She didn't belong in high heels, and linen suits. Even the
clothes she wore felt strangely unpleasant. Pantyhose and high
heels were not her forte. The fact that she tried to fit into this
kind of life once had her shaking her head in complete wonder. She
quickly clamped her eyes shut, pushing those memories to the back
of her mind.

She heard the door open and opened her
eyes. An attractive young woman walked in smiling. Candy couldn't
help but stare. The woman was beautiful. Her blonde hair flowed
comfortably to her shoulders in soft curls. Her make-up was
flawless but thick. Her figure stood out in a tight-fitting suit
that clung to all the right places.

Perfect except for one thing, Candy
decided. That plastic-like expression on her face made her look
like some clone walking around, not human.

The woman put a file on the big desk,
gave Candy a quick assessing glance, and then announced stiffly,
"Mr. Fargate will be right in."

"Are you…?" The door shut before she
could finish and Candy shrugged.

So this was Fargate's latest conquest;
no doubt about it. Nothing had changed in that department. And
obviously the woman knew who Candy was, too, from that tight
expression on her face.

Finally, the door opened again and
Fargate walked in. He came straight up to her, hugged her and held
her at arm's length, his green eyes going over her
thoroughly.

"It's good to see you again." His voice
sounded odd.

Candy stiffened, trying desperately not
to pull away too quickly, and feeling very much like running.
Fargate was so unlike Doug Chapman... and yet so like him, too. She
just couldn't quite put her finger on what it was about the two of
them that made her wary.

Unlike Doug, Fargate was very lean; his
tan was not from the weathered sun, but from a salon he insisted on
visiting three times a week like clockwork. His fingernails were
manicured, his hair styled. His clothes were impeccable. His smile
was charming.

He could have been a manikin in a
storefront. A confident man who knew instinctively he could have
any woman he so desired.

He was everything she had come to
dislike in a man. Why had she ever married him? She wouldn't go
there, though. In fact she refused to. This wasn't about her and
Fargate. She had come to hear her father's will.

"Candy," he broke her reverie. "It's
been a long time."

"Yes," she affirmed and moved away from
him quickly. "Let's get this over with, okay?"

He nodded woodenly. "Of course." But an
arrogant brow shot upward. "So, you're still the little ice-maiden,
I see."

She might have flinched if she hadn't
been half prepared for him to offer a little jab. "When I choose to
be, yes."

He walked over to the desk and flipped
open the file. For a long moment he didn't say anything. Then, he
looked her straight in the eye. "Well," he finally smiled and
glanced at the file again. "It's all pretty cut and dried,
honey."

Now she flinched. He seemed determined
to make this personal. Not that she wasn't used to being called
"honey", "darlin'", and even "sweetheart", but by
cowboys.

Darn him for making her feel so ill at
ease. This would be difficult enough without Fargate playing it up.
Didn't he realize she was closing the lid on her father's life?
Even though she'd had her ups and downs with her father, she loved
him and missed him already.

As though he suddenly decided to treat
this case quite impersonal he slipped a pair of reading glasses on
his nose and skimmed over the file once more. No doubt he was
giving her time to compose herself.

"Want some coffee?"

Coffee? No, she didn't want coffee. If
he really knew her, he'd know that, but Fargate had never paid much
attention to details. She nodded woodenly nonetheless.

He buzzed his secretary and in less
than five minutes the attractive blonde brought a tray into the
office. Candy took a cup and leaned back in the chair, aware that
the secretary's eyes were on her all the while. The tufted leather
chair creaked like a well-worn saddle, and she instantly
relaxed.

Fargate stirred several spoons of sugar
into his cup and settled back in his chair, giving her a good once
over. "Of course, as the only surviving child, you naturally
inherit everything, Candy. I'm sure that's no surprise to you. Your
father loved you very much and wanted better for you, but it just
didn't happen."

Candy leaned her head back in the chair
and relaxed a little more, letting the tension flow away from her.
"I'm sure there isn't much."

Fargate's eyes strayed to the open cut
of her dress, and the ample leg, a place he had no right to go any
longer. She quickly uncrossed her legs and pulled her skirt down.
"Hank wasn't exactly thrifty. Although I did my part to encourage
it," Fargate said.

"Did you? I wonder why you
bothered."

"Because he was my client, Candy--and a
friend. Despite what went on between you and I, your father and I
remained very close."

"Oh, how well I know that…" Candy
couldn't keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice. "Father and
I didn't agree on many things."

"Yes, but there was a time," he said
his voice going deliberately husky.

"Long ago."

"Yes." His eyes flashed. "Three long
years as I remember."

"Let's stick to the issue. The
will?"

"Of course." He slipped the glasses
back on. "He left you the ranch and a few securities that I
encouraged him to invest in. We'll need to check the deposit box,
too. Everything there goes to you, as well. You will need to clear
out his account with the bank."

"I intend to, if there's anything left
to clear."

Fargate smiled. "Old Hank wasn't much
on taking care of things. And believe it or not, he needed me,
Candy. I talked him into buying that ranch. Maybe it's not much,
but it was something. It really was all he had." Fargate gestured
with his hands as though she should be grateful.

"So, you want a medal?"

Fargate ignored her sarcasm. "The price
of land is so high, it was the best I could suggest at the time. It
is an investment. And I'd advise you to sell out as quickly as
possible."

"Sell out?"

"Naturally, and I can take care of the
entire matter for you, if you'd like. It's no place for
a…"

"Take care of it for me? You aren't my
lawyer." She stood up and glared over the desk at him. "Look, let's
get a few things straight. Just because my father trusted you,
doesn't mean I ever will again. I'll take care of my own affairs,
thank you."

Fargate merely grinned. "I can still
make you mad, can't I?"

Candy flushed. "You always
could."

He reached for her hand, and covered it
with his own. "You're upset and naturally so."

She jerked her hand away wanting to
erase his touch, but not giving him the satisfaction of knowing it.
Flopping into the chair quite unladylike, she silently fumed. "I
have no intention of selling anything until I've seen
it."

Fargate's face paled, but he didn't
argue the point. "That's reasonable, I suppose, since you won't
take my word for it."

"Not on your life." She blew a wayward
strand of hair away from her face.

"Still angry with me, honey?" he asked
coming around to her and propping on the edge of the desk in front
of her. He folded his arms over his chest and smiled.

"I got over that, and you, a long time
ago," she said without a trace of emotion.

"How unfortunate for you. Well, do what
you like, but at least agree to think about your options before you
make a final decision. I've already had two offers for the land. I
left it open--in case you were interested."

"Offers? You've had offers? From who?"
She stared point blank.