Cattleman's Choice. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ eyes. “If you say so. I’ll give you a call later about the details of the agreement, okay?” she said with a forced smile.

      “Sure,” Patty said. “Thanks again.”

      “My pleasure.”

      Mandelyn had a salad at the local cafe, but she didn’t enjoy it. Her thoughts kept returning to Carson and to Patty’s disturbing remarks about him. Afterward, she went back to her office where the developer was pacing back and forth, waiting for her. She made a sly wink at Angie, her new secretary.

      “Hello, Mr. Denton,” she said pleasantly, extending her hand. “Sorry I’m late. I was finalizing another deal.”

      “Perfectly all right,” he returned, a tall, dignified man in a gray suit. “I’d like to go out to the ranch, if you’re ready?”

      She hesitated. “I’d better check with Mr. Wayne first,” she said.

      “I had your secretary do that,” he said curtly. “He’s waiting for us. I’ll drive my car.”

      She didn’t like his high-handedness, but she couldn’t afford to antagonize a potential client, so she ground her teeth together in a false smile and followed him out the door.

      “Sorry,” Angie mouthed at her.

      Mandelyn gave her a shrug, and winked again.

      All the way to the ranch, Mandelyn felt as if her stomach was tied in knots. She glanced out across the grassy valley rather than ahead to the ramshackle house nestled in the cottonwood trees with the mountains behind it. She didn’t want to see Carson. Why was fate tormenting her this way?

      His black Thunderbird was sitting near the house, covered with dust and looking unused. The pickup truck Jake had driven the night before was parked by the barn. The corral was deserted. The front door was standing open, but she couldn’t see through the screen.

      “This is where he lives?” Mr. Denton asked in astonishment as he pulled his green Lincoln up in front of the rough wood house.

      “He’s rather eccentric,” she faltered.

      “Crazy,” he muttered. He got out of the car, looking neat and alien in his city clothing, and Mandelyn fell reluctantly into step beside him. She was wearing a blue knit suit, with her hair in a bun. She looked elegant and cool, and felt neither. She’d tried to disguise her swollen lip with lipstick, but it was raw where her tongue touched it.

      As they started up the steps, Carson walked out onto the porch with quick strides. He looked even taller in his work boots. He was wearing faded denim jeans and a blue chambray shirt half unbuttoned over his broad, hair-roughened chest. He looked tired and hung over, but his blue eyes were alert and at least he seemed approachable.

      “Mr. Wayne?” the developer said, putting on his best smile. “Nice place you have here. Rustic.”

      Carson bent his head to light a cigarette, pointedly ignoring the developer’s outstretched hand.

      “You won’t take no for an answer, will you?” Carson asked him with a cold blue glare.

      Denton looked a little ruffled but he withdrew his hand and forced the smile back onto his thin lips. “I got rich that way,” he replied. “Look, I’ll up my previous offer by two thousand an acre. It’s a perfect tract for my retirement village. Lots of water, flat land, beautiful view…”

      “It’s the best grazing land I’ve got,” Carson replied. “And there’s a fort on the place that dates back to the earliest settlement.”

      “The fort could be moved. I’d be willing…”

      “My great-grandfather built it,” came the cold reply.

      “Mr. Wayne,” the developer began.

      “Look,” Carson said curtly, “I don’t like being pushed. This is my place, and I don’t want to sell it. I told you that. I told her that,” he added, glancing toward Mandelyn. “I’m tired of talking. Come out here again and I’ll load my gun.”

      “You can’t threaten me, you backwoods…!” the developer began.

      “Oh, no,” Mandelyn ground out, covering her face with her hands. She knew even as Carson began cursing what was going to happen. She flinched at the first thud, the shocked cry, the heavy sound of a body landing on hard ground. She peeked between her fingers. The developer was trying to sit up, holding his jaw. Carson was standing over him with calm contempt, smoking his cigarette. He didn’t even look rumpled.

      “Get off my land, you…” He tacked on a few rough words and bent to lift the other man by the collar. He frog-marched him to the Lincoln, tossed him inside, and slammed the door. “Vamoose!” he growled.

      Mandelyn stood there, frozen, while the Lincoln jerked out of the yard. She stared for a long minute and then, with a sigh, started after it.

      “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Carson asked.

      “Back to town.”

      “Not yet. I want to talk to you.”

      She whirled and glared at him. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

      He took her arm and half led, half dragged her up the steps and into the house. “Did I ask?”

      “No, you never do!” she shot back. “You just move in and take over! He made you a very generous offer. You’ve cost me a fortune…!”

      “I told you not to bring him out here.”

      “You told my secretary he could come!” she floundered.

      “Like hell I did. I told her to tell him he could come if he felt lucky.”

      And poor little Angie hadn’t realized what that meant.

      “Angie’s new,” she muttered, standing still in the dim living room. He didn’t even have electricity. He had kerosene lanterns and furniture that she didn’t want to sit on. It looked as if it were made with leftover gunnysacks.

      “Sit,” he said curtly, dropping into a ragged armchair.

      She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She’d only been in this house once or twice, with her uncle. Since his death, she’d found excuses to stay on the porch or in the yard when she stopped by to talk business with Carson.

      His face hardened when he saw the look she was giving the sparse furniture. He got up, furiously angry, and walked into the kitchen.

      “In here,” he said icily. “Maybe the kitchen chairs will suit you better.”

      She felt cruel. She hadn’t meant to be rude. With a sigh, she walked past him and sat down in one of the cane-bottomed chairs around the table with its red checked oilcloth cover. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

      “You didn’t want to soil your designer clothes on my filthy furniture,” he laughed through narrowed eyes. He sat down roughly and leaned back in the chair, glaring СКАЧАТЬ