Mad About The Man (15 page)

"
I pay you to make sure I know everything about
everyone who might be important to me. Get on with it.
"

"
We
'
re trying to.
"
Rita shrugged free of Bart
'
s arm.
"
Gaby McGregor is and has been for some time, a world-famous milliner. Seven years ago, after her divorce—for reasons we haven
'
t quite determined—
she decided to run her business from Goldstrike.

"
By the way, as we speak, Ms. McGregor is under contract to her ex-husband to produce the hats that will be worn in
Going to the Dogs.
All the characters will wear hats.
"

A nerve twitched beside Jacques
'
s left eye.
"
I see,
"
he said softly. He unzipped and unsnapped his jeans, shoved his shirt inside, rezipped and resnapped.
"
Very, very funny. I hope she
'
s had lots of fun, because now it
'
s going to be my turn.
"

"
Jacques.
"
Rita caught his forearm.
"
None of us gave the woman a chance to say who she was.
"

"
And she didn
'
t bother to enlighten us,
"
Jacques said.
"
She
'
s at her house, did you say?
"

"
No. Losers
'
Ridge.
"

He paused on his way to the door.
"
What the hell is she doing at Losers
'
Ridge?
"

"
Char Brown said Gaby borrows a horse and rides there pretty frequently. The kid
'
s in Los Angeles with Copeland for a week.
"

Jacques didn
'
t bother to question why the supposed reluctant father would want his daughter with him.
"
Get back to town and make sure everything
'
s set for Napoleon Paradise.
"
He strode from the room.

"
What are you going to do?
"
Rita asked, trotting in his wake.

"
Take a trip to Losers
'
Ridge,
"
he told her.
"
Gaby McGregor
'
s about to learn a lesson.
"

11

J
acques Ledan wasn
'
t the type of man who forgave and forgot.

But since their encounters were likely to be of the briefest kind in future, there was almost zero chance that she
'
d ever know exactly how angry he might be at her rejection of him yesterday.

"
Exclusive concession
."

Gaby settled her rump more comfortably into the grassy dip she
'
d selected, drew up her knees and concentrated on staying mad at Mr. Ledan.

Arrogant SOB.

The good of Goldstrike was his mission and the reason for his being? He knew nothing about the town or the people who lived there. True, things had gotten tough, but the fix wouldn
'
t be found in throwing away everything treasured and planting some hateful, plastic project in its place.

No one had ever kissed her as Jacques had.

They were beings from different planets, destined to disagree on anything and everything.

His every touch made her nerves stand up and beg for more.

A relationship built on the purely physical was doomed.

Hell, she wanted more of that kind of doom!

Clouds moved slowly, heavily, parting almost rhythmically to allow the sun
'
s escape in brilliant shafts that warmed Gaby
'
s back through her checked cotton shirt. Blinding white fog, subtly shaded with
blue gray, filled the valley below Losers
'
Ridge the way a fickle burden of dry ice vapor might nuzzle a giant punch bowl. Gaby wrapped her arms around her legs. No one who hadn
'
t seen this would believe that a northern California valley could look like a soft, visibly shifting glacier.

Vi, the docile old roan Gaby borrowed from time to time, whinnied softly.
"
Steady, girl,
"
Gaby called without turning aro
und. Vi belonged to one of the
women who sometimes helped in the workroom.

The roan snorted, and rocks skittered from beneath her hoofs.
"
What
'
s with you, Vi?
"

Gaby looked over her shoulder directly into a shaft of sunshine. She squinted, and drew in a quick breath.

"
Who—?
"
She bit off the question. The identity of the man astride a silver Arabian wasn
'
t in doubt. Shading her eyes, Gaby watched Jacques.

And, silently, he watched her.

The Arabian was magnificent: big, slender and one hundred percent unpredictable power.

So was the man.

Flipping the reins, Jacques shifted in the saddle and walked his mount a few steps downhill.

Still he didn
'
t speak.

The sun faded and she dropped her hand. He wore a denim shirt—mostly open—and faded jeans that strained over long, strongly muscled legs. His brown boots
were scuffed, his hair mussed…
and his eyes were pure, dark blue ice.

"
Hi.
"
She swallow
ed and drew in her bottom lip.

The horse danced a little closer.

Jacques didn
'
t smile, didn
'
t respond. He hunched his wide shoulders and rested a wrist on the horn. Wind flirted with the animal
'
s mane and flattened the man
'
s shirt to his chest. Beneath the shirt, dark hair curled over tanned skin. She
'
d known he was a big man. But he
'
d never looked this big…
or this angry.

Gaby felt her own temper thin.
"
Hello, Jacques. Off your beaten track, aren
'
t you?
"

He twitched the rein and, with the slightest pressure from his knees, urged the Arabian on.
"
You really don
'
t have any way of knowing what is or isn
'
t my beaten track.
"
He looked directly down upon Gaby. She shrugged, but her heart beat faster.

"
I rode in these hills when I was a boy.
"

Annoyance straightened her back.
"
Really?
"
He truly thought that having visited the area all his life, as a spoiled rich kid, gave him deep understanding of the dynamics here.

"
This isn
'
t about me,
"
he said.

"
This?
"

He edged even closer until she had to tip her head to see his face.
"
Does Mae like visiting her father?
''

Now her stomach made an entire loop.
"
Yes, she does. How did you know that
'
s where she was?
"

"
Why don
'
t you blame Michael Copeland for leaving you while you were pregnant?
"

If he
'
d punched her, she couldn
'
t have felt more shocked.

"
Mmm.
"
His smile—tight, thin—driving those fascinating vertical grooves into his cheeks, didn
'
t warm his eyes.
"
Did you really think I
'
d never find out who you are?
"

Gaby bent forward and rubbed her brow.
"
You know who I am.
"

"
What?
"

She looked at him again.
"
You know who I am.
"

"
I do now.
"

"
You did before. Jacques—
"
scrambling, she got to her feet
"
—I guess I can understand you feeling a bit irritated. You aren
'
t used to surprises. Jacques Ledan controls his world, doesn
'
t he?
"

"
Jacques Ledan doesn
'
t play stupid games with people he cares about.
"

"
Neither
…
"
The next breath she took stayed in her throat.
"
What
'
s that supposed to mean?
"

"
Forget it. You deliberately misled me.
"

"
No.
"
She burned under his gaze.
"
At least, not at first
.
"

"
You didn
'
t need to do so at all, lady. I was straight with you.
"

"
Why should you care?
"
she snapped.
"
All that mattered to you wa
s getting what you want. You sa
shayed in here and told us all what we were going to do. Did you ever, even once, actually
ask
me if I wanted to make your damn baseball caps? Did you?
"

"
You
'
re being unreasonable.
"

"
Because I
'
m telling it like it is? Give me a break.
"
Grabbing at his mount
'
s bridle, she glared up at Jacques.
"
First you sent in your trained animals, then you showed in person with the big guns to tell me exactly what prizes you intended to shower upon me.
"

"
And in between, you and I discovered something else about ourselves,
"
he said in a soft, still voice that cut to Gaby
'
s core.
"
Don
'
t forget that. You sure as hell didn
'
t fight me too hard.
"

"
Okay, I admit that.
"
Denying the truth wouldn
'
t change it.
"
But I also admit I made a mistake in responding to you.
"
Even though she ached to touch him again, to feel him touch her.

"
You deliberately misled me.
"

"
You
tried to use me. First as some sort of cheap labor. Then as a dir
ect line to the people of Gold
strike.
"

"
I never tried to use you. God, but you must have laughed up your sleeve at me.
"

Gaby grasped his calf.
"
Why would I laugh at you? I didn
'
t ask you to come here. None of us did.
"
Be
neath her fingers, his leg was steel hard.

"
Don
'
t tell me you didn
'
t enjoy making an ass of me.
"

"
I
didn
'
t make you that.
"

"
In other words you think that
'
s what I am, anyway.
"
His leg flexed.
"
Damn it. I
'
ve made men pay for doing a whole lot less to me.
"

She crossed her arms and blinked at sudden, completely foreign tears.
"
I don
'
t know why you
'
re shouting at me—and threatening me.
"

"
I never shout.
"

"
All right.
But you
'
re used to getting your own way and you hate it that this time it
'
s not going to happen.
"

He moved so quickly, Gaby had no time to react. Leaning from the saddle, Jacques shot an arm around her waist and hoisted her into the air.

"
Stop it!
"
Kicking only made him tighten his grip.
"
Put me down!
"

His laugh chilled her
…
and excited her.
''
You don
'
t want me to stop, sweetheart. Oh, no. I
'
ve just decided what it was I came out here to do,
"

"
Put me down!
"
Gaby screamed.

Jacques
'
s response was to shift back and swing her to sit in front of him.
"
You know you don
'
t want me to put you down,
"
he said against her neck.
"
Up to now, the game has been yours, hasn
'
t it? You
'
ve played with me and enjoyed every second. Now it
'
s my turn to call the shots.
"

Her heart leapt.
"
I will
not
be manhandled.
"
A wild wriggle only served to slide her bottom firmly between his legs.
"
I
'
m expected at home.
"

"
I don
'
t think so. Mae
'
s with her daddy and you
'
re out riding for the day.
"
With one arm wrapped firmly around her, Jacques used his free hand—and the thighs that pressed Gaby
'
s—to guide his horse back to Vi
'
s side. He gathered the roan
'
s rein.
"
There
'
s a whole lot of this day left. We
'
re not going to waste any of it.
Git,
Snake.
"

"
Snake?
"
She tried to pry his hand loose, only to have him spread his fingers until the thumb met her breast.
"
Who would call a horse Snake?
"