Heather Graham (3 page)

“I’m not hungry,” she said, but the plate clattered to the table in front of her anyway.

“I’ve got this strange feeling you haven’t eaten this morning,” he told her, “and that isn’t any way to run a ranch.”

Martine sat back and folded her arms over her chest, smiling with exasperation. “Mr. Montgomery, you do not look at all daft, nor do you seem to be hard-of-hearing. I told you, I don’t own this place anymore.”

He pulled out the chair next to her and sat, pushing a fork and napkin her way. “Hey, get another cup and the coffee, will you? You drank mine.”

With a vast sigh—and not at all sure whether to be angry or amused—Martine decided to comply. She poured herself a cup of coffee and refilled his.

“Have you got any juice?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact,” she replied a little tersely, “I do.”

She brought the juice and said sarcastically, “anything else? Champagne, caviar? I’m afraid I’m out.”

His fingers wound around her wrist, and she glanced down at them. They were as bronzed as his face, as lean as his long, hard body. The nails were clipped, clean, and neat. His palm and his fingertips were calloused; they were the hands of a man accustomed to work.

But then she had known that he was accustomed to physical activity; it was in the way he moved, confident and secure at all times.

“Sit down,” he said.

She pulled her hand away, staring at him a little deliberately. He was nothing but a drifter, she tried to tell herself. She would not be intimidated by him.

She sat, determined to be amused by the interlude. God knew she could use some amusement. The rest of the day promised only nightmares.

Kane Montgomery had no problem eating. He consumed half his food, then persisted with his questioning. “Tell me more about this thing between you and Lander.”

Martine lifted her hands in a gesture of weary annoyance. “I’ve told you the whole story! It’s as simple as what I said and what you saw.”

Kane took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. Then he said, “Lady, that man has a grudge against you, not your family. What did you do to him?”

“Me?” Martine said angrily. “I never did a damn thing to him! Ken Lander hates everyone in this valley, but no one was ever cruel to him. His father was a useless drifter, but everyone around here took Ken in when he was a boy. And then he didn’t need any help. He saved up some money and started buying everything in sight—whether the owners wanted to sell or not.”

Kane sat back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Sounds like he’s got a bit of a social problem.”

“If you want me to feel sorry for him, forget it!” Martine exclaimed. “He grew into a cruel and avaricious man. And worse.” She paused, staring down at her coffee cup. “A friend of mine almost committed suicide because of him.”

“Oh?”

She looked up at him. He appeared intensely interested, and she shrugged. “Her name is Susan. She was always crazy about him, and somewhere along the line he decided he wanted her. Susan was a nice kid. A little sheltered probably. Anyway, she eventually moved in with him. I don’t think he actually beat her, but he tossed her around like winter wood. She stayed like a fool, because she had fallen so deeply in love with him. Then she got pregnant. He told her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want to marry her or be saddled with a child. He made the appointment and took her for the abortion.” Martine paused for a minute. “She went a little crazy after that. Oh, what difference does any of this make? Tonight I’m out of here. There’s nothing else left to do.”

“Nothing?” His eyes mocked her. “You’re not much of a fighter, are you, Ms. Galway?”

“What are you talking about?” Martine demanded angrily. “I’ve done everything I could. I’ve been to every financial institution in the damned county, tried every trick possible with the ranch. I—”

“How much do you owe, and how much do you have?”

“What the hell is it to you?” Martine said angrily.

He reached into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes and took a long time lighting one. She noticed a little tic in a vein in his strong neck, and for a moment she was very nervous again. He had a temper all right; he just seemed to know how to control it. Her explosive words hung between them like tension in the air, and inwardly she trembled. Her eyes seemed drawn to his hands and on to the breadth of his chest, and then her lashes lowered because she had followed the pearl buttons of his shirt downward as his body narrowed to his waist. She was annoyed that she was swallowing and blushing again. Damn! He was a breed of man she had never met before; just being near him spoke of heat and tension, and while she wondered about him in a way that made her body grow warm, she was also warning herself that if she should make a move he didn’t like, he would probably stop her with the speed and skill of an angry rattler.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured at last, remembering that whoever or whatever he was, he had come from the blue to save her from what would have definitely been rape. She kept her eyes on her coffee cup and played idly with the handle. “I would have done just about anything to save this place.” She looked up at last. “It means a lot to me.

He shifted slightly in his chair, stretching his long legs out, exhaling smoke and watching it rise in her sunny yellow kitchen.

“Why?”

“Because it’s my home. It’s my … heritage.” She smiled a little wanly at last. “At the far end of my two hundred acres is the old town church. Both my parents are buried there.” She lifted a hand to indicate the house. “This is a beautiful place. They made it that. The ranch encompasses hills and ponds and streams and can be a paradise all in itself.” She smiled. “I grant you, I have dust and dirt and tumbleweed too. But”—she waved her hand again—“it has everything.”

He did not follow the wave of her hand; she was certain that he didn’t need to. He knew something about the ranch, and he had already ascertained that a lot of hard work had gone into it all.

“What happened to the finances?” he asked bluntly.

She paled a little. “My mother died when I was little. I barely remember her. But my father … died just last year. He’d had triple bypass surgery and was in the hospital for months the year before.” She paused because she’d be damned if she were going to cry in front of a hard, assessing stranger, even if she did feel she owed him a few explanations since he had saved her. Brusquely she added, “Insurance for independent ranchers isn’t the greatest in the world. Dad had to go to a number of doctors, and it was really quite easy to eat up the savings and the income.”

“I’m sure it was.”

She looked up at him quickly but could fathom little from his gaze. His eyes were fascinating, she thought: fringed with thick dark lashes, searing where stars of yellow shot out from the pupils, deeper gold beyond that color, all blending to the shade of a newly washed gold nugget.

“Maybe I can help you,” he told her.

She started to laugh, then realized how rude it sounded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery—”

“If I’m going to work for you,” he interrupted, “you should get used to calling me Kane.”

Laughter bubbled in her chest again. No, she couldn’t start laughing because she’d start crying. She sobered quickly. “Kane, I owe twenty thousand dollars. I’ve got twelve. I just don’t see—” She stopped abruptly. She had been about to tell him she couldn’t see where a drifting ranch hand could come up with that kind of money. She rephrased her sentence. “I don’t see how anyone could raise it.”

He shrugged, and she felt uncomfortable because now his eyes did tell her something: They told her that he knew exactly what she had really been going to say.

“Your friends can’t come through with that much?”

“No. Ken Lander has been trying to buy everyone out. He already has a number of politicians in his pocket,” Martine said bitterly. “Seriously, in twentieth century America the entire situation is a joke. I’m probably best out of it.”

“Then why did you meet him this morning?”

“Because I was a fool. I believed I could talk some sense into him.”

His jaw twisted a little, and inky lashes shielded his gaze. Something like a hot sizzle passed between them, touching Martine to her core. She knew now what he was thinking, and she didn’t like his thoughts at all. He was wondering if she hadn’t somehow invited Ken Lander into the very scene that he had interrupted.

Then he voiced his thoughts. “You weren’t considering a different kind of payoff to the man, were you?”

She sat still for a minute, then felt her anger rise like a rocket to dictate her actions.

“You bastard!” Martine hissed, and she was on her feet, her hand flying through the air to strike him. But he was standing, too, and she found she had been right about him: He could move with the speed and grace of a rattler. She never touched him. His fingers closed around her wrist, and she gasped a little. But then her hand was dropped, and he was moving away.

“Calm down. Just say no and I’ll believe you.”

“That mentality is the most infuriating—”

“I don’t really know you, do I?” he drawled.

Martine braced her teeth together. “Perhaps you don’t,” she said at last, very coolly. But he didn’t seem to notice her tone.

“Have you got that money in a checking account?” he demanded.

“What?”

“Dammit!” Kane swore, his patience seeming to wear thin. “The money you owe Lander. Can you write a check?”

“I—”

“Don’t stutter. Answer me!”

“Yes, dammit, yes! What—”

“Write it out.”

“Write it out? Are you crazy? He won’t take it, and if you go anywhere near him, it’s likely that you’ll find yourself under lock and key.”

He smiled suddenly, and she felt again that he was young, arresting in the damnedest, most disturbing way. “Aren’t you willing to chance another loan?”

“What?”

“I swear, woman, I thought I’d saved a damsel with some amount of intelligence and her faculties for hearing. I asked you a question.”

“I heard you,” Martine retorted. “But I told you, I’ve been everywhere. I don’t know anyone who can help.”

“You know me.”

“You?” she whispered. “But where—”

“Does it matter? I promise I didn’t rob any banks or trains, nor am I a cattle rustler.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Fine. Then there’s no problem. I’ll lend you the eight thousand. You sign over a note to me.”

“Wait a minute,” Martine said a little breathlessly. “I won’t—I mean, there won’t be any, uh, strings attached to this thing?” Now she was blushing furiously, and she hated herself for it. Damn, she thought she’d acquired a small amount of confidence. And she had, she assured herself quickly. It had just been an unusual morning, from start to finish. And Kane Montgomery was an unusual man—to say the least. And God, after Ken, didn’t she need to protect herself first?

His mouth twitched with open amusement, and his gaze raked her very slowly, very thoroughly.

“What was that, Ms. Galway?”

“I—you’re going to lend me the money, just like that? No, uh, strings attached.” The color had now completely fled from her face. His careful scrutiny continued. Then he met her eyes again.

“Do you mean, am I demanding that you hop into bed for a loan?”

She would have given her eyeteeth to be able to strike him. Knowing the gesture would be futile, she was glad that he stood across the room. “Well?” She challenged him coolly.

He laughed, and she felt his eyes move their disturbing golden warmth over her again. “What makes you so certain I’d want the kind of payment you’re worrying about?” He taunted her with a wicked grin.

She knew that her color had brightened to a brilliant crimson, and it irritated her. She struggled to keep her tone low and aloof. “There’s no catch to this? No strings attached? Why would you, a perfect stranger, want to make a loan like this?”

He paused for several moments, the play of a smile curling his lips. “I like women who can pick themselves up out of the dirt,” he told her. “And like I said, I want a job. No ranch, no work.”

Martine shook her head. “Why don’t I believe this?”

He shrugged. “What’s to worry about? Write your check out to Lander. I’ll see that it’s delivered.” When she kept hesitating, staring at him, he asked, “What have you got to lose?”

Martine shrugged, then turned slowly to leave the kitchen. She felt his eyes on her all the way out, and once past the swinging doors she paused for a deep breath. Who was he? How had he happened to walk into her life just in the nick of time?

She gave herself a shake and hurried into her bedroom. It didn’t really matter because he had made one great point: She hadn’t a thing to lose by trusting him—except her $12,000, she reminded herself dryly. But he wanted the check made out to Ken Lander, and surely he wasn’t a forger.

Martine decided she had to take the reckless plunge. When she had the check written and returned to the kitchen, he was gone. A frown creased her brow as she wondered just what his game was. Then she raced quickly back through the parlor and out the front door.

He was already astride the magnificent bay. He smiled at her, reaching for the check. “You should relax a little, you know,” he told her. “That’s a nice pool out back. Go spend some time at it.”

“I doubt if I could right now,” Martine said sweetly, inclining her head toward the check in his hand. “I’m afraid I’m just not that trusting.”

He grimaced but seemed not to take offense at her words. Then he stared toward the long driveway to the road, and his eyes, sharply narrowed, came back to hers. “Where are your ranch hands?” he asked.

She waved vaguely toward the east. “Fixing fences.”

“On the day you were due to lose the place?”

She shrugged dryly. “Business as usual. Cattle have to be fed, Kane. And penned. If you plan on being a foreman, you must know that.”

“Oh, I do know cattle, Ms. Galway,” he said lightly. His smile faded as he added sternly, “Do me a favor. Don’t hang around outside until your men get back. Thor here is a bit of a wonder horse, but we can’t make town and back in the twinkling of an eye.”

“Thor?” Martine raised a slightly mocking eyebrow.