A shrill clanging rang through the house and startled Mindy from a sleep that had been anything but restful. Bret had pursued her through her dreams like an avenging fury sent by Miss Manners. Except Miss Manners would never approve of what he did when he caught her.
The ungodly ringing was apparently a wake-up call of some kind. Mindy struggled to her feet, then struggled even harder not to think about Bret.
After a night's sleep, however interrupted by dreams, she could forgive herself her foolish attraction toward this impossible man. He was a gigolo after all. Attracting women was his job. His hard muscled body was doubtless just part of his professional equipment. Forewarned being forearmed, Mindy planned to do better. They were her hormones, after all, and she intended to control them.
She looked at the floor where she had tossed yesterday's skimpy outfit. Today she would dress sensibly in something that wouldn't make her so conscious of the way Bret's gaze traveled over her body like an angry caress.
At the bottom of her duffel bag she found an old pair of jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt. With a minimizing jog bra, she hoped to deflect his attentions, or at least prove to herself that his interest was strictly professional. Once she got her own darned chemistry under control, she should have no problems taking care of the rest of the situation.
From what she had learned in a college psychology course, gigolos tend to be men with above average attractiveness but below average intelligence. She should be able to wrap Bret Sanders around her finger before he knew what happened.
A wolf whistle greeted her as she stepped into the dining room. Obviously she'd have to dress down a lot in this woman-forsaken land.
Bret's quick frown silenced the appreciative sound, plunging the room into silence. About ten hands, including a couple she hadn't seen the previous evening, sat around the table stuffing food into their faces as if they might never eat again. They ranged in age from their late teens to late fifties but shared a universal ravenous look in their eyes. Huge mounds of biscuits sat on either end of the long table, a large bowl of grits forming the centerpiece.
With the exception of Bret, all of the cowboys seemed to be making an effort not to stare at her. Bret didn't appear to have any problems ignoring her at all.
"Sit here at the end," Sharon said. "I'll bring you some eggs and sausage."
"Do you have anything else? Maybe some fresh fruit? I try to watch my fat grams."
A disgusted look on Bret's face told her he'd probably never heard of fat grams. Not that he needed to worry about them.
"Fresh fruit? I don't think so," Sharon answered. "I'll see what I can find." She headed for the pantry, leaving Mindy alone with the ten cowboys.
"Don't stop talking on my account," Mindy said.
"Thank you, your highness," Bret fired back. He turned his attention back to the men, apparently dismissing her. "I think we've covered everything. Does anyone have any questions before you get started?"
Perhaps amazed that Bret had put together a full sentence complete with multi-syllable words, the cowboys shook their heads without speaking. A few cowboys stuffed what was left of breakfast between biscuit halves, making impromptu sandwiches. Mindy sensed that their attention had shifted from their food to the door.
"I'm sorry. I don't remember all of your names from last night. Would you mind introducing me again?" she asked. Time to take control of the situation.
"Absolutely." Bret didn't bother disguising his sarcastic enthusiasm. "Mindy, these are the boys. Hector, Frank, Johnny, Ernie, Smitty, Manual, Marvin, Joseph, and Sam. Bert and Rob are up north. Boys, Mindy hopes to sell this place right away."
His introduction wiped away any hint of friendly smiles. A couple of the older cowboys mumbled a "Howdy, ma'am," and the room emptied.
Empty except for herself and Bret. Again.
He took one step toward her and suddenly the room felt far too crowded.
"Thank you ever so for that wonderful introduction," she said, trying to glare with her voice as well as her eyes. "I guess it's important for you to sabotage my relationship with the hands. You wouldn't want them making up their own minds."
"Sabotage? Tell me which part I got wrong. You are Lucy's niece, aren't you?"
"Of course."
"And all you talked about yesterday was selling this place, right?"
"That isn't all I talked about."
"Oh, of course. You also talked about gigolos. I could have shared that with the boys as well. That would have definitely warmed your welcome."
"That isn't what I meant."
"I'll tell you what, Ms. Russell. Next time I'll let you write your own introduction like a speaker at a fancy lunch."
How had she lost control of the conversation so quickly? She decided that an attack was better than defense.
"Interesting that you managed to assign work for all of the men, yet you have time to spend insulting me."
He gave her a tight smile. "I try to stay interesting, Ms. Russell."
"You win. I'd appreciate it if you would please drop the formality. My name is Mindy."
"I am well aware of that, Ms. Russell. Are you interested in why I stayed here?"
Her dreams roared back. Apart from Sharon's doubtful protection, she was totally alone with a man who could pick her up and crush her with one hand. With Mindy out of the way, who knew what would happen to her aunt's estate?
"Yes." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded hesitant.
He leaned against the wall looking down at her despite her efforts to pull herself to full height. "We have a will reading to attend."
"Oh." Her optimism about getting things settled and moving on with her life faded. Evidently Bret was an heir as well.
"After you have your fat grahams breakfast, stop by my office. We'll head for town."
****
"How far is it to the lawyer's office?" she asked.
Bret had led her to a faded gray pickup truck and started driving without a word. She'd meant to out-wait his silence, but she should have guessed that he'd prove the master of that game. After twenty minutes, she'd given up.
He tossed her a map.
The wrinkled and greasy paper told her nothing except that west Texas is a big area with precious few dots of civilization. And some of those dots might have been oil smears on the map. If Bret were to shove her out the pickup’s door to the side of the road, she might be able to flag down another car before she died of thirst. Then again, quite possibly she wouldn't.
"Thanks. Now that we've settled that, how far to town?"
"Another hour."
Oh, great. How many times had she enjoyed the fantasy of spending an hour alone with a gorgeous man? This definitely fell into the category of being careful what you wish for.
"You're obviously angry at me," she told him.
Bret simply stared through the windshield, studying the road. As if the next five miles of board flat highway needed every bit of his concentration.
"Would you like to explain why?" she continued. Since she couldn't beat him at a game of silence, she'd make sure that he talked.
"No." He answered just as she was getting ready to give up on that gambit and start on the weather.
"You wouldn't like to explain why you're angry?"
"No I'm not angry with you. I wouldn't waste my time."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm thirty-three years old. You act like seventeen."
"I'm twenty-seven."
"So you said." He looked at her, hooking her gaze with his. "I don't get angry at squirrels when they steal my supplies. I figure out what to do about them. Right now I'm trying to figure out what to do with you."
"I am not a squirrel."
Just for an instant, he smiled at her.
She had dreamed of that smile and woke herself up to assure herself that no man could look so sexy. She had been wrong.
Then his smile vanished. "Aren't you?"
She fought the urge to reach over and touch his lips, to try to bring back the smile. Her schoolteacher approach might work. "I'm sorry to hear that you're not angry. Actually, that was the only excuse that I could dream of for your obnoxious behavior. Let me assure you, I didn't come all the way to Texas to be snubbed by a bunch of cowboys and their pet leader."
"I know why you came to Texas."
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Let me step you through it, Ms. Russell. I stretched my poor brain muscles and really did do some figuring. What I came up with is this." He controlled the steering wheel with his knees as he ticked off his points on long elegant fingers, folding them down as he made each argument. "You turn eighteen and no longer have to listen to your parents. Yet you don’t visit your aunt. Then, two years ago, your aunt was incapacitated. Still not a word from the loving niece Mindy Russell." One finger down.
"After a horrible and lingering illness, Lucy dies. We have a nice funeral. Everyone from the ranch, all the neighbors, most of the town show up. Still no word from Mindy Russell, though." He pressed another finger to his palm.
"Finally the lawyers turn up a will. All of a sudden, we not only hear from Ms. Russell, we see her in the flesh. Welcome to Texas, Ms. Russell." He pressed the rest of his hand into a fist.
Mindy felt herself flush and rolled down the window of the increasingly stuffy truck. "No one told me that she was dying."
"Foolish me. Of course you thought cancer was a joke."
"No, I don't think cancer is a joke." Despite Mindy's attempt to keep her voice level, she could hear the volume start to increase. "I never knew Aunt Lucy had cancer."
"Really? How very convenient for you."
Mindy sighed. This whole thing still didn't make a lot of sense but at least she could see some pattern. Bret was angry because Lucy had named her as heir even though she hadn't had to put up with the dying woman.
"It must gall you to realize that you wasted the best years of your life chasing a woman who ended up dying before you persuaded her to leave you every last bit of her property."
He slammed his fist into the steering wheel. "That's it, Ms. Russell. I'm ticked that she couldn't die better. Now, if you don't have any other questions requiring immediate answers, I'd like to pay attention to the road."
His attitude shouldn't have surprised her. In some ways it didn't seem quite fair that she inherit a ranch just because of a rarely observed blood tie between herself and Aunt Lucy. On the other hand, what gave him the right to judge her like this? Mindy had written occasional letters to her aunt, bringing her up to date on what was left of her family. Naturally Lucy would have known how badly Mindy needed to return to college to get her teaching credential. As the only heir to a Texas billionaire, certainly Lucy's estate would be plenty big enough to provide her niece some tuition money and still leave Bret whatever her aunt felt reasonable.
"Sure, Bret," she told him. "Pay attention to the road. Looks to me like there's a tumbleweed about two miles down. You might want to get ready to swerve when we get there. You know how dangerous they can be."
Bret pressed the truck's gas pedal a little harder, inching the speedometer above the speed limit. Had her barb hit home, or was he merely laughing at her? One corner of his mouth turned up, almost as if he was struggling not to smile.
Bret's silence grated on her nerves like sandpaper. Surely her aunt hadn't picked him just because of his looks. With her money, she could have had her pick of the young man-things from anywhere in the country. Bret must have some other positive characteristics, not all of which expressed themselves in bed. So far, Mindy couldn't figure out what they might be. Maybe her aunt had simply succumbed to the same irrational desire that surged through her own body every time Mindy looked at Bret.
****
Bret was concentrating all right, but he sure wasn't concentrating on his driving. As Mindy had suggested, he could just tie down the steering wheel and go to sleep for the next five minutes. Instead, he concentrated on ignoring the appeal of the woman who glared at him.
The worst part was, he couldn't even accuse her of sexual provocation. Yesterday, her outfit had left little to his imagination. Not that his imagination hadn't gone into overdrive anyway, stripping off those few garments. She'd deliberately toned down her outfit today, wearing clothing more appropriate for a conservative ranching town. To his chagrin, he found the result even more intriguing than yesterday's all-out display.
"Do you always talk this much or are you making a special effort for me?" she asked him.
"I guess when you spend your days with a bunch of dumb cattle, you get out of the habit of brainless chatter."
"Really?" She must be hard-up for conversation because she ignored the insult and sounded interested. "I'd think you'd kind of save it up. You know, really let loose when you get around humans again."
He decided to answer her seriously. "We get people like that sometimes. Normally they don’t last long. Most cowboys choose their job because they enjoy solitude. Sure they go into town and party all night once in a while. After that, though, they need to go back to the country to recharge, alone."
"Maybe so." From her cheery smile, the idea didn't much worry her. "I'd think anyone out here would get lonely. How did Lucy survive?"
Her hand flew to her mouth as if to keep her last words from escaping.
"I mean--" she stuttered
"I know what you meant." Was he crazy? She had put her foot deep into it and he was letting her off. Did he really want to spend the next few minutes listening to her chatter?
To his surprise, he did. Like cotton candy at the rodeo, Mindy's conversation was addicting.
"I was real young, but I remember her as a pillar of Houston society," Mindy explained. "She went to at least three parties every weekend."
"She wanted to get away from that," he said.
It had been more than that, of course. "She wouldn't be the object of pity," he said. "Letting Houston society watch her die would have been her worst nightmare." It had certainly wreaked havoc on the ranch. He'd done what he could to keep her comfortable but, at the end, nothing had helped.
"Maybe." Mindy sounded absolutely unconvinced.
He pulled through the small town, eased the truck into a parking place and stepped out.
At least Mindy didn't wait for him to step around the truck and open her door for her. He had seen enough of her lady of the manor routine not to need more. He did offer her a hand down from the high-wheeled rig.
Her hand felt small in his. Not like a child's, but it made him feel protective. He tried to ignore the sensual awareness created by the touch of her skin against his own.
"Is this it?"
He almost answered something inappropriate. Something like It isn't it, but it's a good start. Then he caught himself. She wasn't talking about their touch. He looked at the two-story office building. Jason and Longstreet was the only law firm around and occupied the town's biggest building.
"We don't need a lot of lawyers out here."
"I mean, is this the whole town?"
"You got it the first time."
"I think it's quaint. But it's so small. And we had to drive more than an hour for this?"
"They're waiting for us. We'd better go in."
He hadn't spent much time in Jason and Longstreet, but a law office is a law office. Lots of books to impress gullible clients. A couple of computers jealously guarded by paralegals who spent too much on their wardrobes. Lawyers with tanning-booth tans doing their best to look frantically busy.
"Bret. How the heck are you?"
Bret gritted his teeth against Henry Longstreet's completely phony greeting. Together with his friend Andresson, the lawyer had done everything he could to drive Lucy out of business. Now he was acting sympathetic. It was enough to make Bret gag.
"Fine, Henry. Ms. Russell, this is Henry Longstreet. Henry, Mindy Russell, Lucy Babbage's niece.
Henry gave Mindy a slow up and down lookover that lingered overly long on her breasts and hips.
About one second before Bret smashed in his nose, Henry looked Mindy in the face.
"Well, hello, Mindy!"
"Nice to meet you, Henry."
Bret fought down his irrational irritation that Mindy went to a first name basis with a shark like Henry. The predatory gleam in Henry's eyes made Bret feel protective of her. As if she needed protection. Maybe the two deserved each other.
"Lucy's will," Bret reminded Henry.
"Oh, sure. I didn't think it was a social call." Henry turned his attention back to Mindy. "Don't mind Bret's ways, Mindy. Underneath that gruff exterior beats a heart every bit as gruff."
"I'll remember," Mindy said.
"We've got things to do today and the weather doesn't look good," Bret said. Small talk with a hick lawyer who thought he was God's gift to women wasn't on even his priority list.
"Step into my humble abode, then." Henry gave a mocking half bow and pointed at the open door to his office.
Mindy sat at the edge of one of Henry's overstuffed leather chairs as if fearing that it would swallow her if she sat back. That showed some sense, Bret reluctantly conceded.
"Won't you take a seat, Bret?" Henry asked.
He would have done a lot more than just sit down to get this experience over. The sooner the will was read, the sooner Mindy would be gone, and the sooner he could get on with his life.
"All right, I'm sitting," he said.
"Fine," Henry said. He picked up a small china bell. "I think I'll have a cup of coffee. Would you join me, Mindy? Bret?" He made adding Bret's name an obvious afterthought.
"No," Bret snarled.
In the exact instant he answered, Mindy said, "Please."
"Great." Henry shot Mindy a toothy grin and rang the wimpy little bell.
A secretary walked in with a pot of coffee and three cups.
Henry held up two fingers and pointed to Mindy.
"Certainly, sir," the secretary said.
Bret tapped his foot, waiting for this charade to end.
The secretary bustled around with coffee. Bret didn't bother hiding his smirk when Henry looked longingly at the sugar before waving off the secretary. Drinking his coffee black didn't make Henry macho any more than dressing like a cowboy made Mindy unsexy.
"I appreciate you coming into town like this," Henry began when the secretary finally left the room. "I would have offered to come out to the ranch, but you know how busy things get."
Things, as Henry named them, had gotten suddenly busy when Lucy's cancer had progressed to the point where she couldn't leave her bed. All of Lucy's so-called friends had abandoned her then.
Mindy smiled at Henry. "I certainly enjoyed seeing the countryside."
Her voice was so sweet and modulated that it took Bret an instant to get the joke. The west Texas countryside is about as interesting as a baby's diaper.
"Well, sure." Henry obviously had missed Mindy's sarcasm.
"Can we get started?" Bret broke in.
"Of course, Bret." Henry made a show of looking through the thin stack of papers on his desk before 'discovering' the large manila envelope right in front of him.
Bret hardly listened as Henry ran through the legal mumbo jumbo at the beginning of the will. He shoved his boots against the fake mahogany of the desk and pulled his Stetson forward on his face.
"May I have your full attention, please?" Henry sounded just a little peeved at Bret's indifference.
Bret looked up.
"I was about to read the detailed bequests."
"I'm not stopping you."
"Well, you were hardly paying the attention I would think an important matter like this would deserve."
"It's my attention. Guess I can pay it where I want."
"Well--ah, that is to say, on to the specific bequests. My Ranch, commonly known as the Greasy Spot, along with associated accounts, I leave to my friend and colleague Bret Sanders, and to my niece Mindy Russell, in fifty percent undivided interest."
"What?" Bret's startled question left his lips before he could control it. This had to be a mistake. He had earned the ranch and Lucy had promised it to him.
"What about the rest of the estate?" Mindy asked.
"Miss Russell, I'm afraid I don't understand your question," Henry explained. "This is the complete will. I am very familiar with Lucy Babbage's estate and I'm afraid the ranch, together with its corporate bank accounts," he coughed discretely, "which are not especially large, are everything she had."
Mindy shook her head in obvious denial. "That's insane. She was worth millions."
Bret held up his hand to forestall Henry's answer. "Lucy had many admirable qualities, trust for one. But she never could manage money. If she hadn't turned ranch management over to me, she would have lost it too."
"I'm sure," Mindy said in a voice that reeked of sarcasm. "You just managed it to instant success, didn't you?"
"I'll just step out and let you discuss this unexpected development," Henry said. He scurried from the room looking like the rodent he was.
Bret took a deep breath. He had to stay calm. Whatever Lucy had promised him, it was gone now. Instead of an entire ranch, he owned half a ranch. That didn't mean giving up his dreams, it just meant that it would take longer to reach them.
"I won't be able to pay you much up front," he began. "With the mortgage we already have on the ranch, cash flow is a little tough. But things have turned around. Beef prices are headed up and around the country most herd sizes are down. We're in a good position to capitalize on our fully invested position."
"Exactly what are you trying to say?" Her cheeks flushed and she spoke softly but with surprising intensity. Mindy clenched her hands into little fists and stepped close to him. She smelled clean, like Texas wildflowers. Even angry, Mindy was sexier than anyone with her mercenary mind had any right to be.
"You're not interested in a ranch. I am. So you sell me your half. You get your money and I get my ranch." Even stubborn Mindy should be able to see the logic in that.
"I really don't see the logic in that. Why don't we be sensible. We'll sell the entire ranch. You take your half and head for wherever gigolos go when they get too old to work. I'll take mine and get on with my life."
She seemed to enjoy her name calling. He'd be damned before he let it get to him.
"Can you lay off the gigolo bit? It's getting a little old. I'm not a gigolo and you know it."
"Walks like a duck, talks like a duck."
He shook his head. He wasn't going to win this one. "You're wrong on that. You're also wrong on selling to an outsider. Property prices are historically low. We'll get killed."
Mindy stood and walked toward the door.
"Where do you think you're going?"
She nodded at the door.
Bret followed her gesture. The door moved ever so slightly. Exactly as it might if someone was leaning against it and it was swaying with his breathing.
Without speaking, the two moved in tandem, Bret reaching for the door and Mindy putting herself directly in to the side of it.
She nodded again, then he jerked it open.
Henry, one hand still grasping the door knob, stumbled into the room.
"Well, yes. I was just coming to check on you."
"And we were just going," Mindy said sweetly. "Thank you so much for your consideration."
****
Mindy savored the acrid bite to the air as Bret drove toward the ranch. Despite her shock in learning that someone, possibly Bret, had bamboozled her aunt out of the millions of dollars she'd inherited from her late husband, she had enjoyed the camaraderie in thwarting Henry's eavesdropping.
Out of nowhere, a breeze had sprung up, tossing loose twigs onto the road and scooting them along parallel to their truck. In the distance, an ugly brown cloud threatened rain.
Bret's eyes flickered in the rear view mirror and she laughed.
"I don't think you have to worry about Henry chasing us. He seemed more worried about us telling on him."
Bret nodded but didn't smile. "He's a jackal. Men like Henry rely on others to do the killing. They feast on left-overs."
"So why did my Aunt Lucy use him?" A horrible thought crossed her mind. Could this show of dislike between the two men really be a calculated ploy? Between an unscrupulous lover and a dishonest lawyer, her aunt wouldn't have had a chance.
"I never quite figured that out. She used to laugh about what a snake he could be. I guess she always thought of herself as the toughest lion in the jungle. 'Course it's also the only law firm in town."
"And with her gone, you're the head lion?"
"I thought you were a school-teacher. Smart woman like that would know lion males don't compete with lion females."
Exactly right, she remembered. Lion males provided sex and lion females brought home the feasts. The comparison was so apt she shuddered.
"Lucy and I had the ranch appraised when we took out the second mortgage," Bret told her, resuming the discussion he'd started in the lawyer's office. "If you take the value of the land and physical assets including the cattle, then subtract the mortgage, our current liabilities, and add what we have in the bank, that leaves about a hundred and fifty thousand in equity. Your half would be seventy-five. I could pay you five thousand now, then twenty-seven thousand a year for the next three years."
"You're kidding?"
He looked puzzled. "No."
"You seriously think I'm going to sell you my half the ranch for a promise to pay me seventy-five thousand dollars over three years."
His knuckles whitened as he grasped the steering wheel and the strong muscles of his arms bunched. Why did he have such an attractive body? Why couldn't Bret have been the one to look like a ferret instead of Henry? "Plus interest. It's a fair price."
"I'll just bet," Mindy said.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You either have the money or you don't. If you have it, why not give it to me now? If you don't, the only way you can get it is from the ranch's profit. I taught high school math. I know enough to know that a property is worth more than three years' profit."
His grunt didn't deny her accusation. Might as well strike while the iron was hot.
"I don't see any reason I should let you penalize me because of your ineptitude as a manager. If you were so good, would the ranch be in trouble now? It makes a lot more sense to spend what we need doing cosmetic fix-ups, then sell as quickly as we can. It's pretty obvious that neither of us has any use for the other. We'd be terrible as co-owners. If we sold, we could get on with our lives. I won't deny that I think you did a rotten thing getting Aunt Lucy to leave you half of her ranch after everything else she gave you, but it was her stuff and she could do what she wanted with it."
She stopped to give Bret a chance to answer. She half hoped he would deny her accusations, give her some explanation that justified what he had done. His silence damned him.
"It's simple really," she plunged on. "In your position you don't want to be tied down to a ranch a million miles away from anywhere. I mean, west Texas can hardly be a prime spot for meeting rich ladies, can it?"
She figuratively patted herself on the back for that bit of understanding. For all of his angry ways and long silences, she actually found herself starting to like Bret. She couldn't understand why he'd chosen to use his drop-dead looks to become a gigolo. Still, more than one of her college hall-mates had gone on to become trophy wives. She hadn't approved of those choices either, but it didn't mean that they weren't her friends. Was it really fair to hold Bret to a higher standard?
She glanced at Bret again to see if he appreciated her empathy.
Somehow, while she had been distracted by her thoughts, he had floored the accelerator and was tearing down the road. His unblinking eyes stared directly through the windshield.
"You aren't even listening to me, are you?" She had to shout to make herself overheard over the unsteady roar of the engine.
Abruptly Bret jammed on the brakes and pulled off the road under the partial shade of a Burma Shave sign.
"What are you doing?"
He reached down and switched off the engine.
If anything, the roar intensified. The brown cloud she had noticed in the distance broke over the truck like a wave plunging the two of them into a murky darkness.
"What? Are you afraid of a little rain?" She didn't think that he was trying the high school out-of-gas trick.
Bret's laugh sounded bitter. "There's no water in that cloud. It's a sandstorm. These can get ugly."