perhaps in deference to his position as president, he wore a tweed blazer over a white dress shirt. He hadn’t given up his jeans, however. Although Gil hadn’t worn his hat inside his own home, apparently within the walls of the club, a Stetson was de rigueur.
It wasn’t fair, Bailey thought desperately. How was she supposed to be businesslike when everything about him made her weak in the knees? Well, almost everything, she amended mentally. His arrogance was hard to take. She had come up against Gil’s bullheadedness in her initial interview with him. Pushing for answers had been like a futile military assault against well-fortified defenses.
Gil was a man accustomed to steering his own course. Though she didn’t pick up any vibes that he scoffed at the idea of a woman working in law enforcement, nevertheless she suspected he didn’t like having to cooperate.
As they walked down the hall toward Gil’s TCC office, she asked the question that she should have asked the day before. “Have you been to see Alex since he’s been found?”
Gil pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the solid oak door. Ushering Bailey inside, he nodded. “I did...but since he’s lost his memory, the visit was rather pointless. He had no clue who I was.”
“Were you close before he disappeared?”
“Close enough. Not bosom buddies, but we knew each other pretty well.”
“You probably should go see him again when you have a chance,” she said. “You never know when a face or voice might jog something loose.”
“I’ll think about it....”
She placed her purse and briefcase on a low table. She and Gil were standing in what appeared to be an outer reception area. More masculine leather furniture outfitted this small space. Someone had added a stuffy arrangement of artificial flowers, perhaps hoping to soften the ambience. But with various examples of taxidermy staring down from overhead, it was hard to imagine any woman feeling at home here.
Apparently, the office itself was through the closed door a few steps away. “I don’t want to snarl up your day,” she said. “If you don’t mind writing down the user name and password...and giving me a quick rundown of the program you use to input information, I should be able to work on my own.”
Gil smiled, genuine amusement on his face. That expression alone was enough to shock her. But the momentary appearance of an honest-to-God dimple in his tanned cheek took her aback. “Did I say something funny?”
He stepped past her to open the other door. “See for yourself.”
Expecting to discover the customary computer and printer equipment inside, she drew up short at the sight facing her. A dozen wooden file cabinets, four drawers high, lined the opposite wall. By the window, a deep bookshelf housed a collection of thick leather ledgers. Dust motes danced in a sunbeam that played across a patterned linoleum floor. A battered rolltop desk sat just to the left, its only adornment a brass placard that said President.
She held up her hands in defeat. “You can’t be serious.”
Gil leaned in the doorway, his relaxed posture in direct opposition to her own state of mind. “There’s something you need to understand, Bailey. The Texas Cattleman’s Club is an institution, certainly as much a part of Royal’s history as the churches and the mercantile or the feed store and the saloon. Men have come here for decades to get away from wives and girlfriends...to play poker and make business deals. Anyone who walks through the door as a full member has money and influence.”
“And your point?”
“Heritage and tradition are etched into the walls. The guys around here don’t like change.”
“Which is why the child care center drew so much controversy.”
“Yes. That, and the inclusion of women. So it shouldn’t come as any surprise to see how we keep records. The good old boys may have their iPads and their internet, but when it comes to the TCC, the old ways are the only ways. At least so far.”
“So there’s hope for modernization?”
“Maybe. But I can’t force it on them. It has to be a gradual process. If I’m lucky, and if I can spin it the right way, they’ll think it was their idea to begin with.”
“And it won’t hurt matters if a few of the old guard ride off into the sunset in the meantime.”
“You said it, not me. The TCC was here before I was born, and it will be here long after I’m gone. I’m under no illusions that being president gives me any real power. It’s more of an honorary title, if you want to know the truth.”
“I’m sure they think a great deal of you.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Why, Ms. Collins. Was that a compliment?”
The teasing grin caught her off guard. Apparently, dumping her in a dusty room full of nothing but file folders sweetened his mood. “I doubt you need compliments of any kind, Mr. Addison. In fact, I’m surprised your head isn’t already too big for that clichéd cowboy hat.”
“Don’t insult my hat,” he said solemnly, though his eyes were dancing. “Since I’m stuck with you for the foreseeable future, we might as well drop the formality, don’t you think?”
“Does that mean you trust me now?”
“Not for a minute,” he said promptly. “But I figure it’s my job to keep an eye on you...Bailey.”
The way he said those two syllables made her stomach curl with something that felt a lot like desire. But such an emotion was doomed to wither on the vine. Despite her unwilling host’s humor, she was not deceived. Her presence at the TCC was tolerated at best.
For a man who was innocent of any wrongdoing, Gil seemed curiously suspicious of authority. Was there something in his past that made him so? What did he have to fear from Bailey? Nothing that she could see. So perhaps it was government interference in general he hated. Not a particularly uncommon attitude, especially in this neck of the woods. But she felt the sting of his disapproval nevertheless.
Maybe in time she could prove to him that she was more than an outsider meddling in his business. She liked to think they could get to a place where he regarded her as something more than a nuisance. In a tiny corner of her heart, she wondered what it would be like if she and Gil were on the same side. If no walls between them existed. If they could be just a man and a woman. Exploring the sweet lure of attraction.
“I suppose I’d better get started,” she said, trying not to let him see the way her hands trembled and her breathing quickened at the thought of actually being on friendly terms with the sexy rancher.
“Start where?”
“Are you genuinely interested, or is that another suspicious question?”
He shrugged, straightening and running a hand across the back of his neck. “A little of both, I guess.”
She nodded, deciding not to take offense at his honesty. “My plan is to pull all the files of the people I interviewed in the initial investigation. I’ll comb through them and see if anything stands out.”
“In other words, you’re looking for a needle
