thought resurrected memories of her own mother, those last few days of her illness stirring the hot pot of emotions that always simmered close to the surface at the thought of her.
Refusing to allow the pot to boil over, she wove through the crowd and found her table, then slumped down on the bar stool, wishing she’d had more time with Rafe.
To pump him for information, she told herself. Not to dance or hold him or dream about finding heaven in his arms.
Steepling her hands tent-style and leaning her head into them, she closed her eyes and shut out the images that swirled through her mind, steeling herself back in control. She hated feeling vulnerable. James had taught her to attack, to go in for the kill, to eliminate the human element of a business situation, evaluate all the data, make a decision and move on it. Her father used the same approach.
The technique had always worked for her before.
She wanted to earn her promotion. She would use the tried-and-true methods to do so now, and forget emotion, and the way Rafe’s lips might taste.
Just as soon as the memory of his hands on her waist and his breath on her neck subsided.
“You want another drink?” Johnny asked.
Suzanne shook her head. “No, I think I’ll call it a night.”
“Stick around and we can hang out after I shut down.”
Suzanne’s gaze shot to his.
“I promise not to run out on you like Rafe. Poor guy’s got a lot on his mind today.”
Okay, he had offered the bait and she was fishing. “Why, did something happen?”
“Heard Wallace turned down his loan. It’s just a matter of time before he loses the Lazy M.”
And Horton Developers would be there to save him, Suzanne thought. It would be the best thing for both of them.
“Has he spoken to anyone about selling the property?” Suzanne asked.
Johnny shrugged. “Some big developer from Atlanta, but he turned him down flat. Can’t stand the thought of a big mall going in where his cattle have grazed all his life. Supposed to be a town meeting to discuss the proposed development in the morning.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, some of the town’s all for it, but others think it’ll bring sin and crime to Sugar Hill.”
Oh, heavens, didn’t they see the good the development would bring to their little town? That change was not always negative, but progress meant positive things for the people and community?
“Where is this town meeting going to be held?”
“City hall. Noon.”
Suzanne smiled and patted his hand, then stood and said goodbye. “Thanks, Johnny. The drinks were great.”
She’d stay over in Sugar Hill tonight and be at that town meeting tomorrow. She wanted to hear what everyone had to say.
Especially the sexy cowboy with the whiskey-colored bedroom eyes.
Chapter Three
As usual, Rafe rose early the next morning, knowing he had to finish his chores and clean up before lunch to make it to the town meeting by noon. He and his two hands, Bud and Red, had finished moving the cattle to the east grazing pasture, then Bud and Red stopped to repair the fencing that had been torn down by the last ice storm along the northern border of his property. Rafe rode Thunder, his prized stallion, across the rolling hills toward the ranch house, the fresh scent of hay and dirt soothing to his weary state.
He had not slept well the night before.
Dreams of dancing with Suzanne Hartwell had haunted his sleep. He could still smell the sultry essence of her expensive perfume and feel the satiny softness of her hair tickling his chin. And those subtle curves. Oh, at first she’d looked like a bony model, but beneath those stiff designer clothes, he’d sensed a softness that had melted into the hard planes of his own body. A softness and passion that had turned him inside out. Unbridled hunger, sass, spunk—Suzanne Hartwell was no shy, wimpy female. Pampered and spoiled, yes. But defenseless and naive—no way. Making love to her would be like taming a wild horse, he imagined. Or dancing with the wolves.
The reason she was off-limits.
Rich, city women could never understand the kind of life he led, the love of the land, the adrenaline that kept him alive as he worked with his hands. The pleasure that pumped through him as he listened to the night sounds of the farm, the cows, the crickets, the blissful quiet of a hot summer’s night. The primitive raw power he thrived on by living off the land, by mastering a wild stallion.
Yep, Suzanne Hartwell was the wrong kind of woman to play footsie with. She was not a nature-loving, horse kind of girl, but a mall-loving, diamond-studded piece of eye candy. He should never have indulged his wanderlust by flirting with her, should never have held her in his arms.
Hell, he didn’t have time to indulge himself with any woman right now, especially one like her. His ranch needed major work. And now with his mother’s health failing, the inside of the house was deteriorating, too. Maria, the Hispanic woman he’d recently hired to help out, was nice enough, but she’d dyed all his undershorts pink. Apparently she didn’t have a good grasp of laundry skills.
Pink undershorts were the least of his worries.
Hopefully, some of the townsfolk would rally to his side against the idea of the new development. At least stalling the project would help get that developer off his back for a while. Maybe then Slim Wallace would cut him some slack. Knowing Rafe had a buyer made it way too easy for Slim to play hard-ball and lower the ax on Rafe. Sell, Slim had told him. Sell it and get out of debt.
Then where would Rafe be?
He would have nothing. His hands tightened on the horse’s reins as he let Thunder guide him over the ridge. His land stretched for miles, the lush green North Georgia mountains rising in front of him, the thick pines and hardwoods and apple houses in the distance a reminder of his heritage. He had grown up here, ridden this same stretch with his grandfather and listened to his stories of the old pioneer days of his forefathers. He wanted to pass that heritage along to his son one day.
Today he would fight for himself and the preservation of Sugar Hill. Let Suzanne Hartwell have the city. Hopefully, she’d already gone back to Atlanta, with its fancy shops and smog and traffic, where she belonged.
“YES, JAMES, I’m almost there.” Cell phone in hand, Suzanne squinted through the high noon sun as she drove toward city hall. “I’m right on time for that town meeting.”
“Good. I want a full report so we know what we’re up against, especially if those small-towners protest the development,” James said. “Have you met Rafe McAllister yet?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he’s bending any?”
“It’s too early to tell.”
“Well, I know you, honey.
