had to admire that blunt statement. Apparently, she didn’t care to beat around the bush any more than he did. “Yes.”
“And I got it instead.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Because I paid more for it than it was worth.”
Her droll frankness almost surprised a laugh out of him. Another study of her gray eyes found intelligence, and more than a hint of good-natured humor.
He nearly groaned. A smart, curvy goddess with a sense of humor. It was a potent combination, one that appealed on several levels, challenged and seduced at the same time. If she’d been anyone but who she was, his male ego might have been afraid he’d wind up begging. When an all-too-clear image of himself doing exactly that slid into his mind, he swiftly shoved it aside and deliberately made his reply curt.
“I figured you had more money than you knew what to do with.”
He didn’t add that he would have done his best to match her offer if there’d been time to seek additional financing. But time had been denied him. Amos Cutter’s daughters had wanted the sale over and done with as quickly as possible.
Eve’s gaze narrowed. “If you think I was born rich and spoiled rotten, you can think again. What I have, I’ve earned.”
“The same goes for me,” he shot back.
Her chin went up. “Want to stay and earn more?”
“Maybe.”
“Good. Let’s talk business.”
Hank cleared his throat, reminding Ryder there was another person in the room. “Well,” the older man said, “I’ll leave you two to…get to it.”
SHE WAS READY to get to it, Eve reflected as she sat forward and set her forearms on the desktop. More than ready. But it wouldn’t be wise to let her temper rule now. She needed a cool head to deal with this—and him.
Rather than taking the chair Hank had vacated moments earlier, her companion braced one hip against a desk corner and looked down at her, his arms still crossed. The significance of that pose didn’t escape Eve. She held the power position behind the desk, but Ryder Quinn had no intention of assuming a visitor’s role.
How to begin? she wondered, and decided to just dig in. “What would it take to get you to stay on as business manager?”
“That depends on how much you need me.”
Trust him to cut to the quick. And it would be pointless to dodge the issue. If he stayed, he’d discover the truth soon enough. “What I know about horses and cattle could be written on a sticky note, with room left over.”
One corner of his firm mouth hiked up. “I figured as much from that fancy outfit you’re wearing.”
His opinion shouldn’t matter, she told herself. But somehow it did. “Do you like it?”
He hesitated, looking as though he might not want to answer. “Yeah, I like it,” he said at last.
Because she sensed that was the truth, she allowed herself a smile. “I designed it.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “A hobby?”
Her smile widened. “A business.” She couldn’t help it, she just had to go on. “A big business, actually. When I sold it to an even bigger clothing manufacturer, the profit I banked was enough to buy the Creedence Creek, with a considerable amount left over.”
Now both brows went up. “You mean you bought this place with money you made from clothes?”
Oh, it felt good to finally jar this man. And she still had what she felt would be an even greater surprise in store for him. Eve began to enjoy herself.
“Not just clothes,” she told him, echoing his astonishment. “Upscale Western wear for women, sold under the label Sassy Lady. As I said, it’s a profitable business, and even though I no longer own it, I still design for the line.”
There was pride in her voice, she knew, and she was proud of what she’d achieved. It had taken long years filled with hopes, dreams and sheer hard work to put the Sassy Lady line on department store racks across the country. And it was a vindication of sorts that her designs were done with the full-figured female form in mind.
She’d been chubby as a child, chubbier yet as a teen. Those years bridging the gap between childhood and college had been the most difficult of all for her, and she remembered them well.
Yo, hefty hips.
Sometimes she could still hear that mocking chorus of deep voices thrown from a passing convertible, one crowded with a bunch of thoughtless punks out for a joyride on a hot summer night. Not that they’d been punks to her. Back then, they were her peers, boys she went to high school with, which only gave their taunting remark all the more power to hurt her.
And, of course, it hadn’t ended there. In a society that valued thinness almost as highly as wealth, she’d felt less than worthy throughout her young adulthood, a feeling she’d since discovered was familiar to others standing on the wrong side of the scale. Although she’d lost weight as she’d grown older, she continued to struggle with more than a few extra pounds she could have done without. Still, she’d won the battle not to let that bother her too much. Not most of the time, at any rate. Trying on swimsuits under a store dressing room’s unforgiving light could still make her wince, she had to admit.
Not that those swimsuits had been anywhere near dowdy. Not any longer. Clothing styles for women with bodies not built along Barbie lines had taken a dramatic turn over the past several years. She’d been a part of that transformation and had reaped its rewards—all of which had her proud enough of her achievements to burst the pearl snaps on a shirt that fit well and made a fashion statement.
“Sassy Lady,” Ryder murmured, breaking into her thoughts. “Somehow it seems to suit.”
His sudden grin, flashing a string of strong, white teeth, was so starkly male—and so all-out appealing because of that fact—she felt the impact ripple a path through her and had to steel herself to keep it from showing. The last thing she needed, she told herself, was to let him know he could affect her that way. The very last thing.
He was used to being in charge, that was as plain as the nose on her face. Regardless of what he seemingly had no trouble making her feel—right down to her toes, she couldn’t deny—she had to keep her wits about her and maintain as much control as she could over this conversation. Too much depended on the outcome.
“So I suppose we’ll agree that where ranching is concerned, I’m over my head,” she said, marshaling her forces.
“Seems to sum things up,” he said, his tone as dry as dust.
“I need you…badly,” she added, seeking to be bluntly businesslike yet regretting those last words the minute they made it past her lips. Far from her intention, they’d come out loaded with innuendo.
For a split second something sizzled in the air. Something that had nothing to do with business. Something far closer to silk sheets than balance sheets. “That is, I need your expertise,” she tacked
