Picking Up Cowboys (3 page)

Catherine Claiborne was about to get her first lesson in what went around coming around.  He’d spent the last fourteen years building his business, investing his money until he had enough to buy this ranch hundreds of times over.  Gage Maddock had every intention of taking back what was rightfully his. 

* * *

Catherine waited for his response, her stomach twisting.  It was bad enough her father had left half this ranch to someone she’d never heard of much less met, but to be tricked into giving him a lift here was unbearable.  His unassuming cowboy hat and tight jeans were the Trojan horse and she’d pulled it right into her fort without realizing the war that lay in wait on the inside.  Now the enemy was emerging and she felt as helpless as the people of Troy must have felt!  She was the one who’d made sure the ranch stayed afloat for the last eight years.  She’d even given up college and the world she might have discovered.  A lump worked itself into her throat.  She’d invested her soul in this ranch.  She’d let a slick, city-cowboy would come in and take over when she started wearing high heels horseback riding.

“Your father left me what was rightfully mine, minus fifty percent.”  Gage’s green eyes were as cold as the Rocky Road ice cream she’d planned to dig out of the deep freeze.

“Don’t be ridiculous.  How can something you’ve never seen be half yours?  Did my father gamble with you?  Is that what happened?”  It wouldn’t be the first time.  “Well, shame on you for taking advantage of an obviously unwell man.”

“Unwell?”  Gage snorted.  “You mean drunk.”

Catherine glared at him, unable to deny it.  “How much do you want?” she gritted between clenched teeth.  Her jaw ached from holding her mouth so tightly closed.

“How much?”  He threw back his head and laughed and Catherine felt her gaze slip to the sensual length of his throat.  An unfamiliar wooziness struck her legs and she clamped her palm over the counter to keep from falling.  Too much stress.  It was making her dizzy.

“How much money to buy you out?”  Catherine gazed at him steadily.  She was completely serious.  If she had to take on a full-time job outside of the ranch, she would.  But she would not share this place.  It was hers.

“I think you misunderstand.”  His voice was as rough as dried leather.  “I intend to buy you out.”

chapter three

Catherine couldn’t speak for several minutes.  Was he crazy?  This was her home.

Gage grabbed the magnetic pad of paper stuck to the fridge with the matching pen, scribbled a figure on it and pressed it into her palm.  “I think you’ll find that offer hard to refuse.” 

Catherine stared numbly at the slip of paper, considered shoving it down his throat, before curiosity got the better of her and she nudged it open.  She couldn’t prevent the gasp as it slipped past her lips.  It was enough money to do anything she wanted.  She could go see the Taj Mahal, visit Loch Ness, do all the things she’d dreamed of during the years she’d been forced to help her father instead of following her own dreams.

She actually considered it for a heartbeat.  The money would give her the freedom she’d been seeking for what seemed an eternity.  She could become the Catherine she’d once thought she’d be.  The new Catherine.  But deep in her heart she truly loved the ranch. The land.  It was her father’s legacy to her.  The ranch was all she had left of him.

She straightened her shoulders and raised her eyes to catch a smug smile on Gage Maddock’s face.  So, he thought she was going to accept his offer.  He didn’t have a clue about what was really important.  She would
never
give it up.  She must keep her father’s dream and memory alive.  She would never sell it for any amount. 

Catherine slid the scrap of paper onto the counter and smiled sweetly.  “No, thank you.”

Gage’s smile faded inch by satisfying inch.  Score one for Catherine.  He had honestly thought she would accept his offer.  How insulting.  Money didn’t buy everything, and it certainly couldn’t buy her.

He crossed his arms and rested a lean hip against the counter.  “I’ll double it.”

Unbelievable.  He had enough gall to fill a stadium.  Catherine blocked the amount from her mind.  “The answer is still no.”

“Greedy.  Just like your father.  Okay, I’ll triple my offer.  That’s more money than you’ll ever need.  You’ll never have to work again.”

“Nope.  The ranch is not for sell.”  Catherine turned away and pried the lid off the slightly melted ice cream.  She let her hair fall across her face and she grinned, the look on his face after her last denial had been worth giving up one hundred times the amount he offered.

Gage was dumbfounded.  What was the little con artist up to? Did she really think she could get more out of him?  He’d offered her an extraordinary amount of money.  Surely she had to realize the ranch could never be worth that much. He just didn’t understand why she wasn’t going for the high figure.  He’d just have to find out what her price was.  Everyone had a price, if you searched long enough.  The ranch would be his again.

Gage carried his plate to the slightly scarred, oak table and sat down.  He sunk his fork into the feathery lightness of the omelet and chewed deliberately as he re-assessed his situation.

He had too many plans to back away now.  He’d put too much time and energy into the prospect of regaining his legacy.  His eyes narrowed on Catherine as she ate the ice cream straight out of the carton.  He would just have to figure out what her game was, and then learn to play it. 

She pulled her massive tumble of honey-blonde hair over one shoulder, exposing the long length of her slender neck on the side that faced him.  He wondered if she would start shaking if he positioned himself behind her and nibbled it.

She had a delectable little body but she was still a con artist.  He didn’t want her, couldn’t want her, refused to want her.  She was the enemy and he would be crazy to get involved with her in any way.  It was out of the question.  Although, since his money hadn’t interested her, maybe he could seduce her into selling him the ranch.

Catherine returned to the still steaming cocoa and slowly lifted the cup to her mouth.  After a tentative sip, she puckered her full lips and blew on the steamy concoction, trying to cool it. Never would he have credited drinking chocolate as a turn-on, but Ms. Catherine Claiborne had just proven it to be so.  When her tongue darted out to capture a stray droplet, his blood pressure soared off the chart.  He shoved back from the table and bolted to his feet.  The chair clattered noisily as it hit the hard floor.  A shower.  He needed a shower.  A cold one.

“I’d like to take a shower and make an early night of it, if you don’t mind.”  He kept his voice polite.

“Upstairs, first door on the left.”  Catherine blew on the cocoa again.

Gage’s voice came out sharper than he intended.  “I know.”

Catherine blinked her long, dark lashes in surprise and Gage thought how dark they seemed compared to her fair coloring and pale hair.  “How would you know that?”

Because I used to live here
.  Gage kept the thought to himself and offered her a noncommittal shrug. 

Catherine gazed at him for a long, curious moment.  Then she seemed to make up her mind about something and her expression changed.  “I’ll make up the guest bedroom for you while you’re in the shower.”

Gage took the wooden stairs two at a time, stopping on the third down from the top when its familiar creak echoed down the upstairs hallway.  An unexpected and unwanted lump of emotion clogged his throat and made his eyes moist.

When he was a boy, every night his mother would hit the squeaky stair when she checked on him.  He would usually be reading with a flashlight under the covers.  That stair saved him many times because it gave him the time to shut off the light and compose himself into angelic mock-sleep. 

The Claibornes would pay for what they’d done to his family.  Gage would see to it.  Mustang had taken away everything he held dear and Gage intended to have it restored, and Mustang’s beautiful, stubborn daughter was not going to stop him.

* * *

Catherine heard the pipes warble and rumble as Gage turned on the taps.  She jogged up the stairs and paused at the linen closet in the hallway to gather some sheets and blankets.  The sound of the clanky pipes being shifted to shower mode made her throat go suddenly dry.

No more than twenty feet away, separated by a pathetic wood door was a lean, sexy cowboy.  Catherine swallowed several times.  A naked cowboy.  Warmth started in the tip of her big toe and worked itself up her body.

Stop it, Catherine!
  The man was taking a shower.  It wasn’t right to feel this way about a perfect stranger; she’d never been one of those women who fell over herself with passion.  Besides, all the man wanted to do was buy her out, he wasn’t interested in her as a woman.  She marched into the guest room and slung the sheets into an armchair.  She jammed the soft, flannel fitted sheet over the bottom corner of the bed and threw the loose, matching, top sheet over it.

Why had her father saddled her with a partner anyway?  Why did the partner have to be so sexy? She closed her eyes as the image of his broad hands manipulating the soap into frothy suds intruded.  He would rub the suds over his broad chest.  She wondered if he had a sparse scattering of hair.  The thought made her shiver.

She had to stop this.  Gage thought money was the answer to everything; she shouldn’t be having these thoughts.  She had to get away from the sound of the running water; it was causing her to have traitorous thoughts. Throwing a panicked glance at the still closed door across the hall, she arranged the comforter hastily, tossed a pillow on top and clambered down the stairs.

His overnight bag rested against the far wall.  She should probably take it upstairs before someone, probably her, tripped on it and fell.  She shot another glance upward.  The water was still running.  But she really didn’t owe it to him to be a good host.

He’d looked so tired though.  Okay, just this once, she would be helpful.  Grasping one of the worn, leather handles she tugged on the bag.  It was heavier than she thought and threw her off balance.  She landed on the rough, wood floor on her right hip.

Rubbing the spot with one hand, she threw another glance up the staircase.  He hadn’t seen her.  How humiliating it would have been.  She started to push herself to her feet, when she noticed the bag had unsnapped itself and a few of the contents spilled onto the floor.

Great.  She scooped a pair of jeans, and a dark blue sweater back into the bag.  Grabbing the tightly rolled sheath of papers, she started to put them back in the bag.  The rubber band holding them together caught on the metal clasp and snapped, the papers scattered everywhere.

Catherine scooped them together and tried to make the edges neat.  She was preparing to roll them back into a coil when some of the letters jumped out at her and formed into words.  Aspen Trails.

Catherine chewed on her bottom lip in indecision.  She shouldn’t snoop.  But this did concern her if it concerned her ranch.  Tossing one final glance up the stairs, she unrolled the papers and laid them flat on the floor, placing a hand in either corner to keep them from rolling back up.

Aspen Trails Luxury Resort.  Luxury resort?  She glanced over the rest of the form.  It was a blueprint.  A blueprint for a hotel, tennis courts, and a sauna.  Catherine felt her blood start to pump through her veins with a little more force.  What in the--

“What do you think you’re doing?”  Gage stood at the bottom of the stairs, accusation shining out of his eyes.  He held a scant white towel over his hips. 

Catherine slowly rolled the papers back up, pushed herself to her feet, crossed to the large fireplace and threw the blueprints into the flames.

Gage rushed down the stairs and into the living room, as though he might save the documents.  But it was too late.

* * *

“You are not turning this place into some tourist trap.”  Catherine’s chest heaved with each word and Gage couldn’t help letting his gaze follow the movement.

“I never intended to.”  He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling superior and smug until he had to make a grab for the slipping towel.  He knotted it more firmly around his waist.

“Then what were those blueprints?”  Catherine’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Gage shrugged.  “They were for a high-quality luxury resort.”

Catherine nodded her head. “A tourist trap.  Forget it.  It won’t happen in this lifetime.”

Gage moved into the room, stopping a few feet in front of her.  “Just tell me your price, Catherine.  Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.  No more games.  Just a price.”

Her blue eyes darkened to the color of gray storm clouds.  “There is no price.  You can’t buy me.”

“Everyone has a price.”

“You really believe that?”  Her shocked expression confirmed she didn’t. 

Gage felt his mouth twist with irony.  A Claiborne with a conscience. It must be an act.  She was one heck of an actress, he’d give her that.  She’d almost had him convinced she was sincere.

“I know it.”

“You’re wrong,” she whispered, her eyes shining with a fierce pride.

“We’ll see.”

“Even if I did have a price, I wouldn’t sell this place to you.”  Her lips curled up in a sneer.  “I’d find another buyer just to spite you.”

Rage curled through Gage swift and white hot.  He grasped her arms and hauled her against his chest, lowering his face until his words breathed onto her lips.

“This place is rightfully mine and I will have it.”

“When pigs--”

Gage stopped her exasperating mouth the only way he knew how, he lowered his head and slammed her lips shut. Catherine gasped and stiffened in his arms.  What would it feel like to channel all her pent-up energy and passion into more worthwhile pursuits?

He brushed his lips over hers gently, feather-lite.  Catherine gasped in shock. He knew she’d been expecting a kiss of anger. Gage took advantage of the shock, slipped his tongue between her lips and stroked gently along the inside of her mouth.

Her arms came up and buried themselves in his hair.  Perhaps he’d been using the wrong approach with Catherine.  It seemed gentle persuasion worked much better.  His thoughts slammed to a halt at the feel of her firm breasts pressed against his bare chest and the low, cat-like purr which emitted from her throat.

He’d never felt anything quite like this.  He’d experienced passion and chemistry but this was something totally different, elemental.  As though his body and soul were both being engaged in the kiss.

Ridiculous.  He pushed her away, noting the dazed look in her eyes and the tantalizing way her hair tumbled around her shoulders.

He wouldn’t allow himself to get involved with her.  What he was feeling was lust, pure and simple.  And he had every intention of using it to his full advantage.  Then why did he feel a twinge of guilt at the expectant awe in her eyes?  It was all an act.  She was trying to trick him, just as her father had.  No doubt she’d learned every trick in the book from him.

“If you touch me again, I’ll take a branding iron to you.”  Catherine’s chin lifted and her eyes spit blue fire.

Admiration for her courage and spirit coiled around him.  He didn’t want to admire her.  She was the enemy.  But to be able to back away from a kiss like that and tell him to never touch her again, she had to be the strongest woman he’d ever met.  Either that or the kiss hadn’t affected her as it had him.