Cattleman's Courtship. Lois Dyer Faye

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СКАЧАТЬ I heard someone come in.

      Her tennis shoes made no sound on the waxed tile floor as she walked to the end of the aisle. She rounded the end display and stopped in midstride. Her pulse accelerated and irritation warred with attraction before distraction won.

      Quinn Bowdrie was halfway down the aisle, talking to an adorable, wide-eyed toddler. He sat on his heels, one knee touching the floor, his forearm resting on the other bent knee. A grey Stetson was pushed back off his forehead, revealing thick black hair. A pair of sunglasses crowded a pocket of his blue chambray work shirt, and faded jeans, worn white at stress points, molded the heavy muscles of his thighs.

      “I got a car,” the little boy announced importantly, and he held out one chubby hand, palm up.

      “So you do.” Quinn took the miniature red metal car from the little hand and balanced it on his palm. “That’s a pretty nice set of wheels. Do you know what kind it is?”

      “Yup—it’s a ’Far-ee.”

      Quinn turned the die-cast metal car over and read the imprint.

      “You’re absolutely right,” he said. “Ferrari—that’s what it says.”

      “Where?”

      The little boy stepped closer, stumbling over Quinn’s boot, and he moved quickly to steady the small body, his hand splayed across the child’s back.

      Unnoticed by either of the two males, Victoria watched a rare, gentle smile break across Quinn’s hard face as he looked at the child.

      “Careful, partner.” His voice was a deep-throated murmur, his big hand gently patting the small back reassuringly before he gravely inspected the little boy’s offering.

      The child peered at the car in Quinn’s hand, studying the imprinted letters. “Right there?” He asked, tracing the upraised letters. “That says ’Far-ee?”

      “Uh-huh. How did you know this car is a Ferrari?” Quinn asked him.

      “My daddy told me.” The little boy said, nodding emphatically. “It’s my favorite car—see, it’s red.”

      “Ah.” Quinn nodded sagely. “I see.”

      This is the tough rancher who has no heart? Victoria thought with amazement. Watching the big man with the small boy brought a lump to her throat. She stood motionless, silently observing the two dark-haired heads bent together over the miniature car until Quinn glanced up. His green eyes darkened, an unnamed emotion flitting briefly across his hard features before his expression turned unreadable.

      He slipped an arm under the little boy’s denim-clad bottom and stood in one smooth motion, the child seated safely on his arm.

      He didn’t say anything. Victoria considered turning her back and walking away from him but thought better of the impulse.

      “Hello.”

      “Hello.” Quinn knew the moment he looked up and saw Victoria that he’d been lying to himself. He hadn’t been able to forget her, nor the kiss they’d shared on the shadowy dance floor, despite the fact that he’d never met an attorney he liked. And he downright detested pushy, aggressive female lawyers. He’d been moody, irritable and restless for the last two weeks. His gaze flicked down her body, noting the blue smock with Dennings Pharmacy embroidered over the upper swell of her left breast. “What are you doing here?”

      “I work here.” Victoria’s memory of black hair, green eyes, tanned skin and a muscled, broad body wasn’t exaggerated. If anything, Quinn Bowdrie was even more blatantly male than she’d remembered. And judging by the irritation on his handsome face, the anger that had blazed in his eyes at the Crossroads Bar hadn’t diminished.

      “You’re a salesclerk? Isn’t that a big step down from practicing law?” Quinn shifted the little boy on his arm. Her voice was frostily reserved, and the soft smile that had dazed him while they danced was noticeably absent.

      “Some people might say so. However, I’m also handling Hank Foslund’s emergency calls and doing some other work for him for the next month or so. I happen to believe that work is work, regardless of the occupation. While I have a law degree and practicing law is my profession, it’s not the sum total of my existence,” she said pointedly, her gaze narrowing over the shift in his expression as he registered her words. His jaw firmed, his eyes narrowed. She could swear he grew taller as he stiffened. “My doctor ordered me to stay away from stress for at least six months. So—” she gestured at the store around her, wielding the colored collection of feathers “—I’m a clerk.”

      “Six months? Do you really believe that you can keep from meddling in other people’s lives for six months?”

      “I don’t meddle in people’s lives.”

      “You’re an attorney,” Quinn said flatly. “Meddling in people’s lives is how you make your living.”

      “You’re entitled to your opinion.” Victoria held on to her temper with an effort. “But a lot of people, myself included, wouldn’t agree with you. In fact, Mr. Bowdrie, a lot of people, myself included, might argue that your opinion is suspect because you’re clearly prejudiced against attorneys.”

      “Damned straight,” he shot back.

      “Bobby? Where are you?” The female voice interrupted Quinn.

      “Uh-oh.” The little boy in Quinn’s arms patted his face, demanding his attention. “That’s my mama.”

      A young woman in her early twenties rounded the end of the aisle, her harassed expression quickly changing to relief and exasperation as she spied them.

      “Bobby! There you are.” She walked down the aisle toward them and held out her arms.

      Quinn handed the little boy to his mother, and she settled him against her hip with practiced ease.

      “He wasn’t a bother.”

      The young mother’s guarded gaze flicked from Quinn to Victoria before she smiled at her son. “I thought he was right behind me, playing with his car, while I talked to Mr. Denning. Then I turned around and he was gone.” She smoothed a lock of black hair from the little boy’s forehead.

      “Thanks.” Her quick glance included both Quinn and Victoria before she hurried away down the aisle, the bells on the front door ringing melodically as the pair disappeared outside.

      Quinn turned back to Victoria.

      “I’d better be going, too.”

      The cowboy who had smiled gently at the toddler was gone, replaced by a remote, hard-faced stranger. This Quinn was the man that had walked away from her at the Crossroads Bar and Grill after kissing her nearly senseless. She’d neither forgotten nor forgiven how easily he’d turned off the heat while she still felt singed. Besides, she was angry enough with Quinn’s unreasonable prejudice against her occupation that the urge to needle him was irresistible.

      “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

      A faint frown creased his brow. “Not that I know of.”

      Victoria СКАЧАТЬ