couldn’t formulate an answer if his life depended on it. All he could think was, That wasn’t in the magazines.
She’d gotten married. He didn’t like the feeling that simple sentence gave him, like an ugly, jealous fist that thumped into his stomach and stayed there like a lump of day-old oatmeal eaten in a hurry.
Finally sanity returned. And with it, the awareness that he hadn’t responded to her bombshell in any way. He said the first thing that came to him. “Who to?”
The corner of her mouth kicked up a little, though it wasn’t a mirthful response. “His name was Jimmy,” she said. “He was from up near Albuquerque and I met him at a rodeo my senior year of high school.”
Ah, he had it now. “And when the marriage didn’t work out, you headed for Hollywood,” he said.
“No.” She emptied the last of the dishwater and hung the dishcloth up to dry, clearly signaling an end to his grilling. “I headed for Hollywood after Jimmy died.”
* * *
Day wondered about Angel’s husband all day as he rode his land checking each of the thirty-five wells that kept his cattle from dying of thirst in the arid desert region. She’d met him at a rodeo.... Had she married a professional rider, one of the wandering men who followed the circuit or had he simply been a spectator?
Had she loved him? Mourned his passing?
Cynicism reared its head as he recalled the information printed in the article he’d read about her. One headline in particular kept reverberating in his head.
A Legion of Lovers. The article had listed her numerous entanglements since she’d arrived on the West Coast, detailing liaisons with famous men from every field of entertainment. He knew better than to believe it all, but separating the facts from the fiction was beyond him.
He made a last notation in the small notepad he carried in his breast pocket, replaced it and wheeled his horse away from the cottonwood well, so named because of the trees that marked its location. Why was he still thinking about Angel anyway? She was just a temporary guest in his home.
And one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. She had no business doing housework. He’d been too angry the first time he’d seen her to take in her appeal, but since then...since then he’d found her difficult to ignore. Though she didn’t doll herself up like the woman who’d posed for her publicity shots, he found her classic features more striking each time he saw her. He’d already caught himself fantasizing about pulling her hair out of the simple elastic band in which she habitually wore it and running his fingers through the silky, straight golden strands. Yep, he’d caught himself more than once.
Fool, he told himself. You’ve already paid the price for one beautiful, useless woman in your life. When are you going to learn?
When he came in the door before dinner, she was in the kitchen again, kneading dough with quick, competent motions. Had she even been outside since she’d arrived? Before he could give himself time to think, he blurted, “Tomorrow, if you’d like, I’ll give you a tour of the ranch.” Then a thought struck him. “That is, if you ride.”
“I ride, though it’s been a while.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes and turned the bread dough into a pan, covered it with a cotton cloth and reached for the next hunk of dough. Then she looked up from her work and smiled at him. “That would be lovely if it won’t keep you from your work.”
He shrugged, beaten to his knees by that smile. “I can do some work as we go.”
He left her before he did anything more foolish than he already had, heading for his room to shower and change before dinner. When he returned, the men were starting to arrive, and Dulcie was carrying plates of food into the dining room. He walked into the kitchen, intending to help her carry dishes to the table.
Angel was perched on a stool at the built-in desk, the telephone cord wrapped around the fingers of one hand as she spoke into the receiver. Her face was alive with amusement and pleasure, more animated than he’d seen it since her arrival. He wondered who could put that look on her face.
* * *
Angel laughed as her agent scolded her for the tenth time. “Calm down, Karl. I’m fine. I simply needed a little space for a while. Just tell everyone that I’m taking a well-deserved vacation.”
“Where on earth are you and why haven’t you called?” Her agent didn’t sound amused.
She guessed she couldn’t blame him. It must be a bit nerve-racking to have your hottest property disappear without warning.
Karl went on. “I tried your number all day yesterday but all I got was that detestable machine you insist on using to screen your calls.”
She forced a light laugh. Karl knew how much anxiety that screening diverted. Her anonymous caller had stopped trying to reach her after she’d installed that machine. Apparently he was too smart to leave a voice trail for the police. “What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait?”
Paper rustled over the wire and she could almost see him adjusting his glasses. “Well, Muffy Fenderson invited you to a—”
“Send my regrets.”
“But Angelique, exposure is everything—”
“I’m not going, Karl. Anything else?”
He must have heard the note of finality in her voice. “Not really. Oh, some actor called, said he knew you and wanted your number to invite you to dinner. Janson Brand? I’d never heard of him.”
She’d met him during her first days in L.A. Nice enough, but not an acquaintance she wanted to renew. All she did want right now was to be left alone. “Tell anyone who calls I’m unavailable for an indefinite period.”
“Angelique!” Karl sounded almost panicky. “I can’t say that. It will bring the press sniffing around with even greater fervor than they’ve already shown. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Karl, relax. I’m fine. You’re the one who told me I needed a break, remember?”
“But, darling, I seem to recall I suggested the South of France, with me dancing attendance.”
“The South of France sounds lovely. I’ll consider it.” She pressed on, conscious of a desire to conclude the conversation. Talking to Karl reminded her too much of all the things she wanted to forget about. “I’m going to be out of town for a few weeks. I’ll call you when I get back, okay?”
“A few weeks?” Her normally unflappable agent sounded distinctly taken aback.
Angel laughed with real feeling. “Don’t worry. I promise I’ll call.”
“No, wait! What if I get an offer you can’t refuse? At least give me your number.”
“All right.” She gave him the Red Arrow number. “But don’t call me unless there’s an emergency. I’ll call you when I’m ready to come back.”
* * *
After dinner, she helped Dulcie clean up.
“I’ll
