Cattleman's Choice (11 page)

Her eyes closed. It had been loving, of a kind. He'd wanted her quite desperately, and not for the first time last night. He'd wanted her for a long time; perhaps from the very beginning. But he hadn't let her know it. Not until he asked her for those “lessons.” And now she had to wonder if that had been only a means to an end. If he'd decided it was past time to do something about his violent hunger.

Did he care, though? That was the thing that tortured her. Was it just a physical hunger that he was trying to satisfy, or did he feel something for her? And did it matter to her?

She put her cup back in the kitchen and got dressed to go to work. It probably was a moot point now, she thought miserably. If the way he'd looked and talked last night was any indication, he'd never want to see her again.

* * *

Angie had several messages from prospective clients which Mandelyn took to her office and stared at blankly. It was an hour before she could get into the mood to work, and even then she did it halfheartedly. She spent the day staring at the phone, hoping that Carson would call. But by five o'clock, he hadn't, and she realized that he probably wouldn't want to. She went home in a daze and spent the evening staring at the walls.

Friday came dragging around, finally, and Patty stuck her head in the door of the real estate office to remind Mandelyn about coming to her party that night.

“The party?” Mandelyn felt sick all over. Carson had been going to take her. “I…I don't know, Patty.”

“You've got to come,” she prodded. “Carson said he was bringing you.”

Mandelyn's heart jumped. “Recently?” she asked hesitantly.

“This morning, when I went out to give his bull the all-clear.” Patty grinned. “He was in a foul mood until I mentioned that the Gibson boys were coming to play for me. He used to sit in with them years ago. He's a heck of a good guitarist, you know.”

“No, I didn't,” Mandelyn said slowly. There were a lot of things she didn't know about Carson, it seemed.

“Anyway, they'll probably jam for a while. It's going to be lots of fun. See you about six!”

“Okay,” she replied with a wan smile.

“I wish I could come,” Angie sighed when Patty was gone. “I've got to babysit my sister's kids. Three of them. All preschoolers. Patty was going to introduce me to a guy who'll be there. Now I'll have to load a gun and look for my own. All on account of my sister's bridge game.”

Mandelyn almost laughed at the younger woman's miserable look. “I'd offer to stand in for you, if I could,” she said, and really would have considered it. She wasn't looking forward to spending an evening around Carson, whom she was certain hated her.

“I'd almost let you,” Angie replied. “But don't worry, I'll survive. I was a girl scout.”

“I guess that would help.

“Survival training usually does, with preschoolers,” Angie murmured, and reached for the phone, which was ringing off the hook. She pressed the “hold” button. “It's for you. Mr. Wayne.”

Mandelyn's heart tried to reach into her throat. She was tempted to have Angie tell him she couldn't come to the phone. Amazing, how he brought out these cowardly instincts of hers.

“Okay,” she said, and wandered slowly back into her office. She picked up the phone with trembling hands. “Hello,” she said professionally.

“Can you be ready by five-thirty?” Carson asked coldly, and without any preliminaries.

The sound of his voice made her ache. She closed her eyes and wrapped the cord around her fingers. “Yes,” she said.

“Patty's idea,” he reminded her. “I'd as soon have gone alone.”

“Well, if you'd rather…!” she began, feeling hurt and hating him.

“Hell, yes, I would, but I won't give this whole town something to gossip about by refusing to go with you. And neither will you. Be ready.” And he slammed the phone down.

Mandelyn slammed her own receiver down, gave a furious groan and heaved a telephone directory at the door.

Angie, shocked, rushed to the doorway. “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide and fascinated. She'd never seen the very proper Miss Bush throw things.

“No,” Mandelyn said with blazing eyes. “No, I'm not. I'll kill him one day. I'll shoot him through the heart. I'll feed him cactus branches. I'll…

“Mr. Wayne?” Angie gasped. “But you're friends.”

“Me? Friends with that animal?”

Angie stood quietly, fishing for the right words.

“I'm going home,” Mandelyn said. She grabbed up her purse and stormed out the door. “Close up, will you?”

“Sure. But…”

“I'll put alum in his punch,” Mandelyn was muttering. “I'll put burrs under his saddle….”

Angie just shook her head. “It must be love,” she murmured drily, and then laughed at the thought. Miss Bush and Carson Wayne would be the mismatch of the century. Miss Bush was cool and proper and Carson was a wild man. She couldn't picture the two of them in love. Not in a million years. She went back to her desk and started clearing it.

Mandelyn sped home at such a rate that she attracted the attention of Sheriff's deputy Danny Burton. Considering that Danny hardly ever noticed speeders, that was quite a feat.

She pulled over when she heard the siren, and sat there fuming until the short, dark-headed deputy came around to her window.

“Let's see your license, Miss Bush, and your registration,” Danny said drily. “Might as well do the thing properly. Where's the fire—that's the other part of my speech.”

“The fire is going to be under Carson Wayne, just as soon as I can find some wood and matches,” she said venomously.

He stared at her. “You're his pal,” he reminded her.

“That rattlesnake?” she burst out.

He cleared his throat and took the license and registration from her shaking hands. “He must have done something pretty bad to rile you. Poor old feller.”

“Poor old feller? He locked you in a closet, have you forgotten already?”

He grinned. “He's been locking me in closets for six years. I've got used to it. Besides, when he sobers up, he always buys me lunch at Rosie's. He ain't a bad guy.” He handed back the license and finished writing up the ticket. “Why were you in such a rush?” he asked.

“Patty's party's tonight,” she murmured.

“Oh, yeah. I'm going, too. Looks like it's going to be a real hummer, especially since the Gibsons and Carson will be together again. Damn, that Carson can make a guitar sing!”

Why did everybody know that except her? It made her even madder. She took the ticket with a sigh.

“Now slow down,” he cautioned. “If you wreck the car, you can't very well go dancing tonight, can you, Miss Bush?”

She sighed. “I guess not. Sorry, Danny. I'll slow down.”

“Good girl. See you later.”

“Yes. See you later.”

She drove home under a black cloud. Even after she'd dressed in a full red printed skirt and a white peasant blouse, with low-heeled shoes, she still hadn't cooled down. She felt wild. Furious at Carson, furious at the circumstances that forced her to be near him. She only wanted to close him out of her life and forget that he even existed. He was haunting her!

When he drove up, her heart began to race wildly. She didn't want to see him, she didn't want him near her! Her body tingled as she opened the door and looked at him. He was wearing jeans and a red print Western shirt with a red bandana. His brown boots were the new ones they'd bought together in Phoenix. They were highly polished, and matched the tan hat he'd bought to go with them. And he looked so handsome and virile that she ached.

His own eyes were busy, sweeping over her body in the unfamiliar casual clothing. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she seemed smaller and much more feminine than before. His teeth ground together and his face grew harder.

“Ready?” he asked curtly.

“When I get my purse and shawl, yes,” she returned icily. She jerked them up from the sofa and locked the door behind her.

He opened the door of the Thunderbird for her, but she hardly noticed. She was still angry at his curtness.

He got in and started the car, then sped out onto the highway.

“Keep that up and you'll get one, too,” she said, staring straight ahead.

“Get one, what?” he asked.

“Speeding ticket.”

His eyebrows jerked up. “The way you drive, you got a ticket? Sheriff Wilson hire a new man or something?”

She continued to stare out the window. “Danny gave it to me.”

“Pull the other one. Danny never stops anybody.”

“I was doing ninety-five at the time.'

The car went all over the road before he righted it. “Ninety-five, on these roads?”

“Go ahead, make some nasty remark,” she challenged, her eyes glittering up at him. “Go on, I dare you!”

His eyes studied hers for an instant before they went back to the road. “In a temper?”

“You ought to know. Yours isn't so sweet today, either.”

“I think I'm entitled to a bad temper, considering how I got it.”

She flushed and wouldn't look at him. She wouldn't talk to him, either. He didn't seem to mind. He drove all the way to Patty's house without saying a word.

Chapter Seven

“C
arson! Mandy! It's about time you got here!” Patty laughed, rushing forward to grab Carson by the arm. She looked nervous and flustered, and nearby, Jake was talking to a group of cowboys.

Mandelyn had never in her life felt such a violent urge to hit another woman. Patty, blissfully unaware of her friend's reaction, clung closer to Carson's sleeve and grinned.

“The Gibsons have been waiting for you,” she teased. “Jack said he wouldn't even play if you didn't come.”

Carson laughed, and Mandelyn could have cried, because it seemed that the day was long gone when he would laugh with her that way.

“In that case, I'd better get over there, I reckon. You look sweet,” he added in a soft drawl, glancing down at Patty's blue polka-dotted dress and white shoes.

“Thank you,” Patty said, and curtsied. Her eyes flirted with him. “It's nice to have my efforts appreciated.”

Her hair was loose tonight, too, and she'd never looked less tomboyish. Jake glanced at her out of the corner of one eye and scowled. Mandelyn was the only one who caught that look, and she wondered for an instant if Jake might be jealous. What an odd idea. Carson's foreman never looked at women.

“Excuse us, Mandy,” Patty said politely and dragged Carson away. He went like a lamb, without a backward glance.

Mandelyn felt out of place. She was in no humor to enjoy partying this evening. But Jake seemed to sense that, and excused himself from the other cowboys to join her.

“You look as out of place as I feel, Miss Bush,” he said wryly. “I'm not much of a partygoer.”

“And I'm not in much of a party mood,” she sighed, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. She was watching Carson. He shook hands with the four brothers at the bandstand and accepted a big guitar from one of them. Tossing his hat to Patty, he sat down with them.

“Quite a treat, to hear the boss play,” Jake murmured. “He doesn't do that very often these days.”

“I've never heard him play,” she mentioned.

He glanced down at her. “I'm not much surprised. He probably thinks you'd prefer something classical.”

“Everybody seems to know me better than I know myself,” she sighed. Actually, she liked Country-Western music very much.

They were tuning up and Carson said something and they all laughed. He seemed so different here, with people he knew. He was relaxed and cheerful and outgoing…a stranger. He seemed to sense her watching him and glanced up, but his eyes weren't smiling. She dropped her own to avoid the accusation and frank dislike in his gaze.

“You two have a falling out?” Jake asked quietly. “He's been pure hell the past few days.”

“I noticed,” she said shortly.

Jake shrugged and leaned back against the doorway to listen. The Gibson brother who led the band gave them the beat and they swung into a fast, furious rendition of “San Antonio Rose.” The others muted their own instruments, two guitars, a bass and a fiddle, and Carson's lean fingers flew across the steel strings of his guitar with beautiful precision. Mandelyn gaped at him. She'd expected that he'd be passable, but what he was doing with the instrument made her knees weak. He was expert.

“Good, ain't he?” Jake grinned. “I used to fuss because he wouldn't go professional, but he said running all over the country with a band wasn't his idea of fun. He liked cattle better.”

She watched Carson with sad, quiet eyes. “He's marvelous,” she said softly, and her tone hinted that she didn't mean only as a musician.