Gold Fire (15 page)

Since Jase was gone, she chose Matt. He’d seemed so honest and decent she hadn’t expected this from him.

She opened her mouth to tell him how insulted she felt when his gaze shifted from Jase’s retreating back to her, and his features softened with concern. “I’m sorry, Zoe, I didn’t mean to be rude to you.” He reached across the table to grasp her hands, encasing them in his own. “You must think I’m a complete chauvinist and a bastard for cutting you out like that.”

Her anger faltered. She couldn’t have said it better. “Why did you?”

He gave her an embarrassed smile. “I thought
he
might be a chauvinist bastard. I wondered if one of the reasons Garrett was putting us off was because he didn’t take you seriously. He didn’t say anything
to make me think that, but you can’t always tell. Some of these local cowboys have old-fashioned ideas about a woman’s place, and they resent having to deal with them as professionals. If Garrett was like that, I thought he might prefer an offer that came from me.” He shrugged. “I guess that isn’t his problem.”

She could have told him that. Jase might be stubborn and annoying and frustrating as hell, but he’d never given her reason to think he didn’t respect her ability to do her job. He simply didn’t care for what she had to say.

In fact, she didn’t know any man who would turn down a three-million-dollar deal just because it was offered by a woman. That attitude belonged to another generation. The only man she’d ever met who’d been that closed-minded and pigheaded was Buck Flemming.

Suddenly, she got it. Buck had been Matt’s stepfather. The one who had given Matt his start in the business world, and probably been his mentor. Matt had seen that prejudice on a daily basis at work, and almost certainly at home, putting women on a pedestal and keeping them there, out of touch with any important dealings. It was to Matt’s credit that he rejected that bias so soundly himself.

The hard shell around her heart crumbled. She slipped her hands free so she could grasp his. “I understand,” she told him. “But most men aren’t like Buck.” Matt’s skill at reading people had obviously slipped with Jase.

He gave her a pained smile that pulled at her heart. “I couldn’t be sure until I tried. I felt lousy doing it. But I guess in the long run it doesn’t matter who came
up with the idea, does it? Not to Garrett. He doesn’t want to budge on this.”

She was forced to agree. She didn’t understand why, but Jase seemed determined to resist the most lucrative offer he’d ever get for this place.

Strangely, Matt didn’t seem upset. In fact, he looked like he was trying to find a way to improve her spirits. He gave her fingers an encouraging squeeze. “Forget about Garrett, Zoe. Don’t let him spoil your mood.”

“But he’s ruining your plans for a golf course! How can you not be upset?”

“That’s business, honey. Sometimes things don’t work out.” A sly smile touched his mouth. “But don’t throw in the towel yet. Give Garrett a few weeks to think about what he turned down. Let him deal with the hassle of repairs and constant maintenance while he remembers that three million dollars could buy him a house on a tropical beach. With that money and his low expectations, he could spend the rest of his life with a beer in his hand, watching girls in bikinis play volleyball. Instead, he has nine months of winter, girls in cowboy boots, and the occasional drunken fight in the parking lot. I have a feeling he’ll come around. And he knows where to find us when he does.”

She still wasn’t sure he was reading Jase correctly—he’d had all that for eight years and didn’t seem tired of it. But she smiled as she shook her head. “You’re the boss.”

“Not for the next hour. I think we deserve some time off.” He cocked his head with a playful grin. “And I deserve a dance with a pretty girl. What do you say?”

There probably wasn’t a girl in the place who would have said no to that smile. She let him guide her
to the dance floor where everyone had fallen into rows as they line-danced to an old Brooks & Dunn song.

“Do you know how to do this?” Matt asked uncertainly.

“Sure, I’ll show you. It’s easy.” Maybe not so easy in heels, but no harder than doing it half drunk, which was how she’d usually done it years ago, back when her fake ID and the clothes she’d changed into after leaving her grandma’s house had been her idea of fun.

They joined the end of one row and Zoe took him through the steps in slow motion until he caught on to the pattern. By the second dance he was stepping and turning like . . . well, not a pro, but at least like someone who’d done it before. No one would ever mistake him for a cowboy in his tailored slacks and white dress shirt, but he kept up with the group.

She didn’t have to tell him what to do when the music changed to a slow tune. He pulled her into his arms, flashing another grin that told her this was the part he’d been waiting for. A smile crept onto her lips as he settled her against his chest. Any thought of him being her boss was long gone. She caught envious glances from a couple of women nearby, and couldn’t dampen a spark of pride that she was the one in his arms.

They danced without talking, even slower than the rhythm of the song. The music soothed her into a dreamy state. Matt paused as the song ended, still holding her, looking at her as they waited for the next one to start. His gaze roamed her face and hair, even dipping briefly to the V-neck of her blouse. She smiled nervously, wondering what he was thinking. He didn’t say anything, and then another song started and they were swaying again. She closed her eyes
and concentrated on the sensations, like Maggie had said—the scent of his cologne, the softness of his hand around hers, the smooth warmth of his shirt against her cheek. She sighed with contentment. Everything about Matt was perfect. His easy temperament. His confidence and good looks. Even the professional way he’d dealt with Jase. She’d almost taken offense when he’d appropriated her idea, but really, how could he know Jase wasn’t as closed-minded as Buck had been? It was an angle she hadn’t even considered, another reminder that she could learn a lot from him.

The song ended. Zoe’s daydream dissolved with it as conversation and laughter filled the dead air between songs. Matt released her hand and she felt a tug of disappointment that they’d finished dancing. She knew they should be working; they’d already danced to three songs and she should get back to the resort. But the mood had been so intimate, she could almost imagine what it would be like to . . .

His hand cupped her chin, lifting it upward as he leaned down and kissed her. For one startled second she thought it was her imagination, then realized that the soft lips pressing against her own were as real as the hand beneath her chin and the other one holding her securely against him. She kissed him back, enjoying the gentle but persistent kiss that lingered just long enough to let her know it was more than a friendly first-date kiss. It was an I-intend-to-do-this-again kiss, and if she couldn’t tell that from his lips, she could see it in his eyes when he lifted his head and gave her an approving smile. She smiled back, composed and steady despite the little pulse of excitement that fluttered in her chest.

Without words, Matt had made it clear that their relationship was more than professional. A perfect kiss for the start of what she suspected would be the perfect romance. She tried to memorize the moment—how he’d looked, the song they’d danced to, the first thing he would say after kissing her.

“Let’s get something to eat before we head back.”

A completely ordinary sentence. Somehow it felt right for the easy way Matt was falling into her life, barely creating a ripple. Because they fit together so well.

She smiled, nodding in agreement, still amazed that it was all happening so naturally. No ringing bells, no ground moving under her feet. Just a feeling that all was right with the world. Which made sense, when you found the right guy.

•  •  •

Jase slammed the mug down on the bar. Beer slopped over the side in a wave of sticky foam.

“Hey!” Jennifer shoved him aside and snatched up the mug. “If that’s what you call helping, I don’t need it.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, not even looking at the small lake of beer she mopped up. He kept staring at the far end of the dance floor where Zoe stood smiling at Matt.

He’d kissed her! Fuck! The slimy SOB was her boss; he had no right putting his hands on her, much less his lips.

And it sure as hell looked like she’d kissed him back. Not that he gave a damn what Zoe did and who she did it with, but he was starting to believe Zoe was a decent person. Unfortunately, she worked for a guy who wouldn’t know decent from dirt.

“You plan to help or just get in the way?” Jennifer said. He moved aside as she followed his gaze. Her mouth thinned into a tight line. “What’s
she
doing here?”

“Still making offers to buy.”

“You still refusing?”

“I told you I’m not going to sell.”

Jennifer slid a drink down the bar to a customer, and gave Zoe a dark look. “But she keeps coming back.” Her gaze returned to him and narrowed with speculation. “And you keep watching her.”

“Maybe she likes it here.” He didn’t want to discuss Zoe with anyone, least of all another woman who might be edging toward a full-blown territorial catfight. “I think I’ll get out of here for a while.”

“Good,” she muttered.

He couldn’t leave fast enough. Passing the kitchen and restrooms, he unlocked the temporary back door and slipped through, closing it on the noise behind him.

The framing boards of new construction rose around him, ghostly pale from the solitary light by the Dumpster. He inhaled deeply, letting the smell of sawdust replace the clinging aroma of pizza and beer. It didn’t help clear his mind. His head had been clogged for days with thoughts of Zoe, and seeing her kissing Matt had the same effect as dragging a stick through a mud puddle, swirling thoughts and feelings into one big, murky mess. He needed to sort them out.

He stepped through the framework of walls and into the night. Noises from the saloon were subdued here, but still loud enough to remind him that he was only a hundred feet away from dozens of people.
Happy, noisy people. The noise could make it hard to think, but most of the time that was what he wanted. For eight years those people had helped keep him sane, or at least kept him from driving himself crazy.

When he’d bought the Rusty Wire, he’d been in danger of losing himself, of no longer being Jase Garrett, the man who’d won four Olympic medals. He was Jase Garrett, the man who’d killed his best friend. His life had crashed down around him. He didn’t even care, he just waited for it to bury him and end his suffering. Then the Rusty Wire had gone up for sale, and he’d suddenly found a distraction from the pain in his heart.

The saloon was his escape. Nothing to win other than a pile of poker chips. No competition more serious than a game of pool. No way to let the drive to win blind you to everything else until you killed the man who’d been your best friend for the past five years. He’d settled into the Rusty Wire, content to hide from the pain of life. He’d done a good job of it for eight uneventful years. He didn’t even have to compete for women, finding that when one left another always came along. Life was blissfully bland . . . until Zoe.

He wasn’t sure what she had done. It wasn’t the offer to buy the saloon that had unsettled his world. Refusing that hadn’t required any thought on his part. But something about her stuck in his mind and he couldn’t let it go. Something about the way she wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t stop digging for reasons, wouldn’t stop asking those goddamn questions why. Her drive to succeed was too familiar—she’d been right about that. They were alike. She’d known that he’d buried a part of himself, and couldn’t understand why. That damn favorite question of hers.

She confused him. Muddied the waters. He couldn’t help admiring her gutsy determination to achieve her goal, but at the same time, he hated it. Hated that her ambition reminded him of himself and the life he’d run away from. He’d had good reason to run, too. To insulate himself so his selfish goals could never ruin another life. He didn’t want to be tempted out of his safe retreat by some sexy woman chasing her own success story, along with the wrong man. He just wanted to hang on to the Rusty Wire.

He also didn’t want to watch Zoe give herself to that asshole boss of hers. That
really
disturbed him.

The best thing to do was avoid her. Out of sight, out of mind—he hoped to hell that saying was true. He would stop thinking about her, starting now.

The decision made the turmoil in his mind ease a bit. He looked at the arc of sky above him, sprinkled with thousands of stars, and drew in a deep breath. Fresh night air filled his lungs. Pine-scented air. It reminded him of Zoe standing on his front porch, hair glowing in the lamplight, pursed lips temptingly kissable.

Fuck! It had taken all of two seconds before she’d invaded his thoughts again. He might as well go back inside where the music and conversation might wipe everything else from his mind.

He retraced his path through the unfinished construction and opened the back door. Immersion was immediate as the familiar noise of his saloon washed over him. Music pounded into the hallway, a song by Linkin Park; the rockers outnumbered the cowboys tonight. On his right a metallic crash came from the kitchen, followed by laughter. He hoped it had been an
empty tray and not someone’s order. On his left female laughter filled the air as someone opened the ladies’ room door and stepped into the hall.

Zoe.

He stopped. The pulsing music faded to nothing more than a muffled beat in his head.

She turned, a casual glance over her shoulder that changed abruptly as her eyes met his. She stared, indecision evident in every muscle of her body. The kitchen door swung open between them but she didn’t move, forcing a waitress to hug the wall as she scooted past.

Jase watched her weigh her choices, knowing he should make it for her. They were casual friends, at most. More like acquaintances. He should just nod and walk by.

What he should do and what he wanted to do were two very different things. A magnet embedded in his chest couldn’t exert a stronger pull, and he knew if he tried to walk past her at that moment, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from touching her. It didn’t matter that they’d never had a conversation in which she didn’t irritate him. She also attracted him. It probably wasn’t a good combination.