stepped through the gate, the belly-deep belling of a bloodhound erupted from the back porch of the house. Hannah heaved to her feet and bayed again, and a cacophony of barks, yips, yaps and woofs broke out at the kennel.
“Ray,” Summer said in a conversational tone that he barely heard over the din, “has never been introduced to Hannah.”
Chase grinned. Apparently Hannah was a little more alert than she looked, and she set the other dogs off. You couldn’t beat a dozen yapping dogs as an alarm system.
Ray Fletcher closed the gate and started across the thirty or forty yards from the front gate to the paddock. Chase noticed that Summer didn’t take one step toward the man. Fletcher had crossed half the distance before she made some kind of signal to Hannah, at which the old dog heaved a sigh and plopped back down. The rest of the canine clamor was dying down by the time Ray Fletcher reached them.
He was an indoor sort of man, all right, a little soft through the middle and under his smooth-shaven chin. Not bad looking. Not especially good-looking, either. There wasn’t much memorable about him, Chase decided, except the expensive clothes he wore...and his eyes.
Ray Fletcher’s eyes weren’t soft when his gaze flicked over Chase as quickly as a lizard’s tongue tasting the air, summing him up and dismissing him. Chase didn’t much care for the dismissal, but it did intrigue him. Offhand, he could only think of a few men who’d discounted him that quickly. A couple of them were fools. One was as ruthless and cunning as Chase had ever come across.
“Summer,” Fletcher said in a pleasant tenor voice, “as soon as I heard about your accident I came to see if there’s any way I could help. I know how proud you are, but perhaps you’d consider a loan.”
“Really? And here I thought you’d probably come out here to see if my getting crippled up meant I’d have to sell you my land.”
He looked pained. “I know you’ve never acquitted me of having ulterior motives for dating you, though I’d think you’d only have to look in the mirror to realize the truth. But mixing business with pleasure is never a good idea. I should have known better.”
“Well, if you’re really concerned, Ray, let me reassure you. This is Chase McGuire. He’s going to work for me while I’m unable to take care of things myself, so you see, I really don’t have any problems for you to concern yourself with. Chase, this is Ray Fletcher, a land shark from San Antonio.”
“For heaven’s sake, Summer,” Fletcher said, exasperated, then turned his quick brown eyes on Chase. “Mrs. Callaway does like to give me a hard time, Mr. McGuire. I’m a real estate developer, and—” he smiled and shook his head ruefully “—I made the mistake of trying to persuade Summer to sell her land. Now I’m one of the bad guys, as far as she’s concerned.”
“Is that so?” Chase stuck his thumbs in his belt loops and looked Fletcher up and down, his expression easy and pleasant. “You saying you aren’t a bad guy? Sure looks to me like a black hat you’re wearing.”
Fletcher couldn’t decide if that was supposed to be a joke or not, so he ignored it. “Summer,” he began, “about that loan. I’ve got the money to spare, you know that. Just say the word.”
“Now why would you think money was tight for me, unless you knew how much my property taxes had jumped this year? They doubled, Ray. And you know what’s odd? It was right after I turned down your offer that the appraiser showed up to reappraise my land. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”
He frowned. “You can’t seriously think I had anything to do with that.”
“You know how us women are, Ray.” Her voice turned low and cold. “We get these notions. I’m getting another one right now. I’m thinking you’d love to make me a loan so that you could somehow get me to default on it. That would simplify things for you, wouldn’t it? You and your plans for your fancy housing development?”
“Oh, enough.” Fletcher made a chopping gesture. “I put my foot wrong with you months ago, but this is getting ridiculous. You can’t blame me for every little thing that goes wrong.” He started to turn, then paused. “Look,” he said, “I really would like to persuade you of my good intentions. If you’re ever ready to give me a chance, just call.”
I’ll give you a chance, Ray. Just withdraw your offer for my land. Formally, in writing. And throw in something about how you won’t ever make another offer.”
He blinked before replying, a second too late, “When you get over your paranoia, call me.” He turned and walked off.
“That got rid of him,” Chase said when Ray Fletcher was out of earshot.
“Did you hear him?” Summer stared at Fletcher’s retreating back. “He offered me a loan. A loan,” she repeated, astounded at the insult. “I can’t believe it. He honestly thinks I turned down his offer to buy my land out of some stupid feminine pique. He thinks he can go right on pretending to be interested in me. Like that would make any difference about whether I’d sell the land or not.”
“How much land do you have?” Chase didn’t think a developer would be interested in the little bit of land that the stable, kennel and house sat on.
“All that,” she said, gesturing at the large, fenced pasture beyond the house and grounds, “and down from there to the river. Nearly forty acres, ten of it riverfront. My father fought hard to hold on to it. He had land speculators after him, too, always trying to get him to sell, but he held on. I am not,” she said, “going to let some inflated property taxes and a sore shoulder make me lose what he held on to.”
Pride, Chase thought. The woman had more of it than was good for her. She was stiff with it, practically quivering with outrage that Fletcher had thought he could get his hands on her land just because she had five times as much of it as she needed and nowhere near enough money—just because she was broke and hurt and might be thought, by some, to be just a tad vulnerable at the moment.
It was damned appealing. “Forty acres isn’t enough to ranch, but it’s more than you need to run a stable, isn’t it?”
She looked at him, disgusted. “I don’t imagine you’d understand.” She turned away. “Come on. The morning’s nearly over and the kennels are still dirty.”
Chase watched her walk away. Her back stayed stiff and straight, but her cute little butt swayed gently from side to side. He appreciated the stiffness almost as much as he did the sway. He watched her move and saw how the morning sun turned to copper when it tangled in her long, unbound hair.
He sighed. He was a weak man. A sadly weak man. And she was a sexy, prideful woman with an injured shoulder who wanted nothing to do with him. A woman like that didn’t know enough about her own body’s responses to defend herself against him, and he really ought to leave her alone...even though when he touched her hair her breath got shallow and her nipples got hard. Even though he couldn’t keep from speculating on how she’d respond if he touched her elsewhere.
She’d probably slap him silly.
“Are you coming?” she called without looking back.
He grinned and picked up his duffel bag. “Yes, ma’am,” he called, and started towards her.
He always had liked a challenge.
Three
