Rebel Love. Jackie Merritt

no longer familiar with this ranch?” Cassandra asked.

      “That’s it, exactly. I used to drop in and talk to Ridge once in a while, but I never got beyond the buildings.”

      “So what you’d like to do is check the land?” You big phony. Whitfield land is no different than Sterling land, and you know it as well as you know your own name! He was stalling for God knew what reason, but what choice did she have but to play along? If she could get an answer out of him in a week or so, she would do almost anything.

      “Do you have any objections to showing me around?” Gard asked casually.

      Cass made a small throat-clearing sound. He didn’t need her “showing him around,” the rat. He could get in his pickup or on a horse and see everything there was to see without her company. So...what was in the back of his devious mind? Another kiss? More than kisses?

      She would never get over him not remembering that night at the sand dunes, and if he had any foolish ideas about luring her into bed, he was in for a rude awakening. How could she have liked that rough, overbearing kiss he’d given her a few minutes ago? Had she momentarily lost her senses?

      Well, it was the last kiss between them, make no mistake, she vowed.

      “When would you like to begin your inspection?” she asked in a smooth-as-honey voice.

      Gard blinked. “Um...the sooner the better, I suppose. Are you free tomorrow?”

      “Free as the breeze. Tomorrow, then? What time?”

      “Might as well get an early start. Seven?”

      “Make it eight.”

      “Fine.” It was obviously time he left, though he would have thoroughly enjoyed spending the rest of the day sitting on Cassandra’s sofa and looking at her in that pretty teal outfit. He got to his feet. “Let’s do it on horseback.”

      “Do it?” Cass’s face turned crimson. He hadn’t meant do it, for pity’s sake, he’d meant inspect the ranch!

      Gard wanted to laugh so badly, his insides cramped and hurt. He’d “do it” on horseback, or any other place she could name, if “doing it” was what she wanted. It was an exciting goal to contemplate.

      “Unless you don’t ride anymore,” he said with a completely straight face.

      Was that another innuendo? Cass had to clamp her teeth together to stop herself from shrieking a vile name at him. But then a better idea came to mind and she smiled with all of the femaleness she could muster. “I...ride a lot,” she said in a deliberately husky voice. “I love...riding.”

      Gard nearly choked. “Good...that’s good. Uh, I’ll ride over on my horse in the morning.”

      “And I’ll have mine saddled and ready to go.” Cass stood up. “I’ll show you out.”

      They walked to the front door, which Cass opened. “Thank you for coming.”

      “You’re welcome.” Gard walked out and heard the door close behind him. Dazed, he made his way to his pickup, got in and then sat there. What a woman! One minute she acted as though she’d like to sock him and the next as though she’d like to... Dare he think ride him?

      His teeth were gritted together as he drove away. She was still sassy, still unpredictable, and, Lord, was she exciting!

      He could hardly wait for tomorrow morning.

      * * *

      Cass spent the evening on the telephone, talking first to her lawyer at his home in Billings, then to Francis in California. The two conversations were startlingly similar.

      “Sterling’s stalling and I don’t know why. Now he wants to inspect the ranch, which is utterly ridiculous,” Cass said.

      “Maybe he doesn’t have the money to buy you out and can’t or won’t admit it.”

      “That’s not it,” Cass denied. “The Sterlings were always very well-off. No, it’s something else.” With Francis, she went a little further. “He’s an arrogant pain in the neck, Francis, playing some kind of silly game with me.”

      “Have you told him why you want to sell so badly?” Francis asked in her naturally gravelly voice.

      “I doubt very much if it would change anything.” Cass hadn’t shared with Francis her surprise at the modest amount of cash in her father’s estate. Selling the ranch was really her only means of buying into the gallery, as Francis had made one thing very clear: she would not sell that fifty percent for anything but cash. “You’d have to know Gardiner Sterling as I do to know what I mean,” Cass added. “He’s completely self-centered, and my having an urgent need to sell wouldn’t impress him in the least.”

      “Please keep me informed, Cass. I don’t want to put additional pressure on you, considering what you’ve been through, losing your father and all, but...well, I think you understand my point of view.”

      “I do, Francis, and I appreciate your patience, believe me. Maybe—I’m hoping, at least—to know more by the end of the week. I’ll call.”

      * * *

      In bed later, Cass tried again to figure out Gard’s dawdling with that option. It was such a simple decision, either he wanted the Whitfield ranch or he didn’t.

      Her thoughts crept elsewhere. Could his procrastination possibly have something to do with her? Maybe he did remember that night at the dunes and what came after, and maybe he didn’t know how to apologize. After all, hadn’t he kissed her without the slightest provocation?

      Cass’s heart beat faster. What if that was it? What if Gard remembered that incredible, starry night, and hoped to bring them to that same point again? Men were sometimes so peculiar and closemouthed about emotions and feelings. After all, it wasn’t impossible that he wanted to keep her in Montana, was it? Maybe deliberately delaying a decision on that option was his method of doing it.

      A sigh lifted Cass’s chest. There were too many holes in that theory to put much stock in it. First of all, wasn’t she forgetting how wild and reckless Rebel Sterling had been fourteen years ago? And that he’d arrived at the dunes half-drunk and with a six-pack of beer to finish the job? It had probably been just another night to him, and why should it stand out from so many others? He didn’t remember it at all, and she may as well stop thinking like a schoolgirl.

      Cass’s own memory of that night was suddenly so acute she couldn’t lie still. Throwing back the covers, she got out of bed. With her arms curled around herself she paced the dark bedroom. Why did it still hurt after so long? she asked herself. She’d had men friends since, and yet that episode with Gard was the most unforgettable experience of her life.

      It was also the most regrettable, she reminded herself. She had behaved badly that night, drinking beer with him, giggling over silly remarks, just so thrilled to be with him that she forgot every standard she ordinarily lived by.

      But she had paid for it in the following weeks, paid for it every time she caught sight of him, every time he barely acknowledged that he even knew her with a nod or a casual hello. At the time it hadn’t occurred to her that he simply didn’t remember what had happened at the dunes, and she had interpreted every snub and slight in the most painful way possible. She still hadn’t considered a memory lapse until seeing Gard again, and now, instead of feeling miserable about it, she should be grateful he didn’t remember.

      Cass returned to her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She was grateful, she told herself with teeth-gritting determination. Probably the worst thing that could happen in her present circumstances was for Gard to suddenly develop total recall.

      Sighing heavily, she turned over and closed her eyes.

      * * *

      Riding beside Gard was discomfiting for Cass. She hadn’t lied to him about loving to ride horses, and she had done quite a bit