him coldly. “That attitude won’t get you far in the Pendleton organization.”
“Not my fault if the boss doesn’t know how to bid for cattle. I’ll have to educate him.”
There was a collective intake of breath at the table. Beside it, Jason’s brow quirked. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
“Do you know who trumped my bid for those heifers?” the man asked curiously.
Everybody at Cy Parks’s table pointed to Jason Pendleton. Gracie did, too.
The visiting cattleman turned to the man he’d been putting down for most of the day. Jason took off his Stetson and cold black eyes bored into the man’s shocked face.
“You bought those heifers? With what?” the arrogant rancher exclaimed. He glanced at Gracie. “You don’t look like a man who could afford a sick calf, and your girlfriend there sure hasn’t got money. So who do you work for?”
Jason didn’t like the crack about Gracie. His amusement morphed into pure dislike. “I could ask you the same question,” he said icily.
“I work for the Pendleton organization,” the man said.
Jason glowered at him. “Not anymore.”
“And who do you think you are, to tell me that?” the man demanded.
Jason’s black eyes glittered at him. “Jason Pendleton.”
The fancy rancher stared at the ragged cowboy with patent disbelief. But then, in his mind, he recalled the painting in the Pendleton Corporation CEO’s office downtown, over the fireplace. The man in the portrait was a match for the man glaring at him from the booth. “You’re Mr.…Mr. Pendleton?” he stammered, flushing purple. “I didn’t recognize you!”
Jason was toying with his coffee cup. His eyes held the other man’s. “Pity,” he murmured.
The other rancher seemed to lose his dignity and his arrogant attitude all at once.
“I didn’t know…” he stammered.
“Obviously,” Jason replied curtly. “I wanted to see how you operated before I turned you loose as my representative. Good thing. You like to put people down, don’t you? Well, you won’t be doing it on my payroll. Collect your last paycheck at the office. Do I need to say the words?”
The rancher’s jaw set. “You can’t do this to me! Hell, nobody fires a man for losing a bid…!” he began belligerently.
Jason stood up. He was a head taller than the man and he looked dangerous. The ranchers at the nearby table tensed.
“I said,” Jason began in a slow, menacing tone, “collect your last paycheck.” His big hands began to curve into fists at his side.
The rancher’s companion noticed that and grabbed his friend’s arm, almost dragging him away. He knew things about Jason Pendleton’s temper that the other rancher obviously didn’t.
Gracie tugged at Jason’s hand gently. He looked at her and calmed a little as he sat back down again. But he was openly glaring at the man’s retreating back. The fancy rancher’s companion was talking feverishly and nodding toward Jason Pendleton. The rancher glanced back toward the Jacobsville cattlemen and grimaced. But he wasn’t going to a table—he was actually leaving the restaurant.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“He is, rather he was,” Jason replied with magnificent disdain, “the man I hired recently to go to sales for me. Barker. The one I told you about, who was throwing his weight around. Good thing I checked him out. He’d have cost us business, with that attitude. I don’t like men who judge people on appearances. Wealth is no measure of character.”
“So that’s why you were bidding so high against him.”
Jason nodded. “I had to push him to see how he’d react. The auctioneer knew what I was doing, so I won’t have to pay the higher price. I worked out a fair deal before the auction.”
Gracie pursed her lips and whistled through them. “Oh, boy.”
“I’ll bet that’s not what Barker’s saying right now,” Harley Fowler said gleefully. “And that’s what you get for taking people at face value. Nothing wrong with wearing comfortable clothes.” He gave Jason a grin and turned his attention to Gracie. “I don’t guess you go out with ranch managers, Miss Gracie, but if you did, I’d love to take you over to Shea’s and show you how nicely I can waltz…”
He stopped because Jason was now glaring at him, and with eyes even colder than he’d shown to the pompous cattleman.
“Uh, sorry, I’d better finish my lunch and get back to work,” Harley said with a sheepish grin, averting his attention to his plate.
Gracie was gaping at Jason, only diverted by the arrival of the waitress with their own salads and drinks.
“What was that about?” she asked hesitantly when they were back in the truck.
“Barker?” he asked absently.
“No. Harley.”
His jaw tautened. “Harley’s a boy.”
She was disconcerted. “He’s a nice boy,” she protested.
He didn’t say a word.
She shifted in her seat, frowning. Jason was very strange lately. She didn’t understand why there was so much anger smoldering inside him. He was probably still angry with that Barker man, she decided, and left him to his thoughts.
Jason was unusually uncommunicative during the ride home, keeping the radio between them while he drove. His attitude toward Harley puzzled her. It wasn’t like him to snap at underlings, especially cowboys, and he’d already made it obvious that he disliked men who put poor people down. He didn’t know Harley well, but he’d seemed to like the younger man. Or at least, he had until today. It was almost as if he were jealous of Harley’s interest in Gracie. That was silly, of course. He was affectionate toward her, but there was nothing out of the ordinary in his demeanor. It was just wishful thinking. She grimaced, thinking about how she might react if Jason ever really pursued her as a lover would. Love was one thing. Sex…well, that was terrifying. She wasn’t sure she could function in that respect. Not even with Jason, and he’d been the only man in her life and her heart for years.
Chapter Two
TWO DAYS LATER, GRACIE WAS back in her flower beds. This time she’d pruned back some aggressive wandering vines that had exploded with growth after the passage of Hurricane Fay when it made landfall. The rains had been torrential. Now everything was overgrown because of the bountiful rain. After months of drought, it was wonderful to see green things again.
It was Friday and she was hosting an important party for Jason this evening. It was business. He hated parties, but he was wheeling and dealing again, hoping to add a new and imaginative software company from California to his roster of acquisitions. The two owners were in their twenties and crazy about soccer, so Jason had invited members of the Brazilian and American soccer teams to this gathering. It was
