not too tight but certainly not overloose. Her eyes dropped, noting involuntarily the way his gray slacks molded the powerful muscles of his long legs. He smelled of spicy cologne, and her eyes rose again and stopped at the wide curve of his mouth above that cleft chin. She could feel the heat of his big body and it made her long to lean against him.
“Is this for my benefit?” he asked quietly, his eyes smoothing down the clingy shirtwaist dress.
Her heart bounced in her chest as her eyes met that glittery stare. “Of course not,” she faltered. “I…was running late, and I didn’t have time to put up my hair.”
“I’m not talking about your hair,” he replied, his voice deep and measured. His arm moved deliberately so that it brushed lazily against her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her temple. “Be careful,” he murmured softly. “You said yourself that I was a womanizer. Wearing something that sexy might give me ideas.”
Her shocked eyes were trapped in his stare. It was like electricity flowing between them for one long, staggering instant.
“I…didn’t mean to,” she stammered.
“Didn’t you?” He moved his arm away and stood aside to let her pass. She managed that on legs almost too wobbly to support her. After shrugging into her coat, she went out to the car. Her face burned as she realized just how vulnerable she was to him. And he wasn’t even trying. What would she do if he ever made a real pass at her?
There was a strained silence between them as he drove out of town toward one of Harry Deal’s newest oil rigs. This was a derrick, because Harry was drilling for the first time on this new field on his property. He hadn’t hit oil yet, but Danetta would have bet that he was going to. Harry could smell oil, and he had quite a track record.
“My father has a percentage of this exploration,” Cabe said a few minutes down the road. He tapped ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray of his big gray Lincoln, glancing sideways at Danetta. “Relax, for God’s sake,” he snapped. “I’m not going to jump on you!”
She bit her lower lip until her teeth bruised it. “I appreciate it,” she managed with forced humor.
He took a long draw from his cigarette and let out an audible sigh with the smoke. “It’s all right, Dan,” he said after a minute. “I don’t have the right to tell you how to dress, although I guess I might have pushed you into what you’re wearing today by the insulting things I said about the way you looked.” He moved uncomfortably. “It’s my father, damn it! I hadn’t even noticed your clothes until he stuck his nose in.” In fact, he hadn’t really noticed Danetta that much until his father had started to point out her virtues. Now he found himself watching her all too often. Like right now. He glanced toward her and then away, his face tautening as his eyes registered once again how sexy she looked in a dress that fit properly. “That dress is…very flattering.”
She knew her face was flaming. All at once she felt like one of the creatures on the endangered species list. She darted her eyes to the window without acknowledging the compliment. “You said your father had an interest in Mr. Deal’s operation?”
He put out the cigarette. “A small percentage, yes,” he replied, relieved to have the hot tension die down. The sight of her in that dress wasn’t doing his self-control any good at all, and he hoped she was too green to realize that his bad temper was due to the new attraction he was feeling for her. “Eugene likes to have his finger in every pie he can find.”
“I thought oil was a bad investment right now.”
“The market’s down, but it will come up again. Like gold, it fluctuates. But as long as it’s a necessity, prices will eventually go up. Eugene and Harry Deal are smart enough to diversify. They’ll make out.”
“Is there a problem with the equipment you made for Mr. Deal?” she asked.
“He thinks so. I don’t.” He glanced at her and grinned. “I know the joker who’s operating the rig for him. He’s an old-line rigger and he doesn’t like trying new things. He’s probably put the damned part in backward or left it out altogether.”
Which turned out to be exactly the case. Danetta, standing uncomfortably to one side while Cabe wrestled with an unfathomable piece of greasy equipment, saw the older man nearby turn red when the motor was turned back on and the part slid into place and worked with textbook precision.
The rig was overrun with men—muscular, rough-looking men who seemed to find Danetta, even in her light car coat, quite an attraction. There were some women in that line of work, but not in Harry Deal’s crew. She felt all too conspicuous.
She was holding Cabe’s jacket while he worked. Now he wiped his hands on a handkerchief that would never be white again and gave Harry Deal a speaking look.
Harry, a white-haired, short man with a big nose, glared at his rigger. “Okay, I stand corrected,” he muttered. “Sam, you can explain all this to me later.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam grumbled. He shot Cabe a hard glare and stomped off to the other side of the rig.
“How’s your dad?” he asked Cabe.
“Making money. He hopes you’re going to fund him a new Rolls with this strike.”
“I’m doing my best.” He turned, pursing his lips at Danetta. “Still got the same secretary, I see. Not married yet, Miss Marist?”
Danetta hugged Cabe’s coat to her breasts. “I did find one candidate, Mr. Deal,” she replied sweetly, “but he couldn’t change a tire and talk at the same time, so I gave him up.”
Harry smiled unpleasantly. “Can’t change your own tire?”
“I have to these days. Most men are so fastidious that they don’t like getting mussed up doing those difficult jobs.”
Cabe saw disaster ahead. He took Danetta by the arm and led her away from a smoldering Harry. “Let me know if you have any more problems, Harry,” he called over his shoulder. “We have to get back to work.”
“Thanks, Cabe,” the older man said shortly and turned back to his job.
“Arrogant old dinosaur,” Danetta muttered, all too aware of the biting grip Cabe had on her arm even through the thick cloth.
“You escalated things, honey,” he reminded her. “Now get in there and keep quiet until I get you out of earshot.” He gave her a faintly amused glance. “You’ve never talked back to Harry before.”
“Maybe it’s the smell of oil and grease that did it,” she offered, smiling impishly. She felt free, now that she’d finally stood up to the old devil. Maybe working for Mr. Ritter had given her that bit of extra self-confidence. She’d had to stand up to him, and now it was getting to be second nature to stand up to other people. She’d…expanded emotionally, she thought.
He chuckled softly as he put her in the Lincoln, leaving his jacket in her hands as he went around and got in. He was still trying to get the grease off his big hands.
“Damned old-line riggers,” he said on a heavy sigh. “Harry needs to fire that son of a—”
“Mr. Ritter!” She glared at him.
“Sorry,
