by Diana Palmer
It had to be Bates, Morie decided. The stupid man was crazy about Gelly. God knew what she’d told him to make him help, but Morie couldn’t get that odd smile out of her mind. How strange, for Bates to look at her with that smile and then, shortly afterward, for her to be fired for theft. He’d been with Gelly all morning. Gelly had also set up a former hand who was fired for stealing. It was all so useless.
Of course, nobody knew who Morie really was, or her real background. If they had, Gelly would have had her own head on the block. Morie was rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Gelly, however, would love to be rich. She just wanted to marry Mallory, so that she’d have whatever she wanted. Morie had been in the way. Gelly had been jealous of her from the start, and she had to know that Mallory was feeling something more than professional regard for his newest hire.
Those hungry kisses had knocked Morie off guard. She’d never expected that things would end like this. She choked back tears of anger and loss. Maybe it was just as well, she told herself. Mallory believed in her guilt. If he’d cared about her, nothing would have convinced him that she’d take something from him. That was absolute proof that anything he felt was just physical. He didn’t care about Morie. He couldn’t have cared, and treated her so coldly.
She dabbed at her eyes with her battered handkerchief. Her father was going to be livid when he found out where she’d been. But Shelby would stand up for her. It would be all right. She’d just have to get through the next few days and it would start getting better. She’d go on with her life, and Mallory would fade into the past, day by day, hour by hour. Maybe in a year she wouldn’t even be able to remember what he looked like. Time was kind.
HER FATHER AND MOTHER were waiting at the ranch’s airstrip. They were standing close together, as they always were, smiling at each other until Morie came down the steps of the small jet.
“Morie!” Shelby ran to her and embraced her, hugging her close. “Oh, it’s so good to have you home again!”
“Been rolling in wheat straw?” her father asked, his black eyes that were so much like her own narrowed in suspicion.
She grinned and hugged him tight. “Yes, I have. Don’t fuss, Daddy.”
He hugged her, laughing. “Okay. Good to have you home, brat.” He held her at arm’s length. “Now. Where the hell have you been for the past few weeks?”
She sighed. “Working on a ranch as a cowgirl,” she confessed.
“Good God Almighty!” he raged. “Hell, I wouldn’t even let you lift a hay bale here and you went to work on a…!”
“Please don’t fuss,” she interrupted. “I learned so much about ranching. I learned about calving and feed and fences, all the things you’d never teach me. I learned ranching from the ground up. And I had a good time doing it.”
“Where did you work?” he persisted.
“In Wyoming, for people who had no idea who I was,” she said. “And that’s all I’m going to say about it. Ever.”
“Was it a big ranch?” he asked.
She shrugged. “A family one.”
“I see.”
“Some brothers. They were nice. I even had my own room in the bunkhouse and all the cowboys looked out for me. It was just like here, only smaller,” she added, to cover herself. “Much smaller.”
“Did you tell them who you were when you left?” Shelby wondered.
“No. I just said I had to come home.” She dropped her eyes.
Shelby, who knew her very well, was certain that there was much more to this story that Morie didn’t want to tell her parents.
“Well, we can talk about it later.” Shelby said gently. She smiled at King. “Right now, let’s get her home and cleaned up. Honestly, Morie, you do look ragged!”
Morie laughed. “It was fun, while it lasted.”
“It’s nice to have you home.” Shelby sighed, hugging her again. “I’m surrounded by men when you aren’t here. Nobody wants to discuss recipes or Paris sales and shopping.”
King made a face. “I’ll talk about the production sale late this month,” he volunteered.
Shelby glowered at him. “I’m already tired of hearing about it. Who do you think is having to make all the arrangements, my darling? Not you! I’ll bet you have no clue about caterers and musical entertainment and tables and chairs and awnings….”
“Gosh, is that the time?” King glanced at his big watch. “I have cattle to brand!”
Shelby made a face at him. “Then you can drop us off at the house on your way,” she told him with a chuckle.
He smiled back. He shouldered the box and the rucksack that Morie had brought with her and headed for the big ranch SUV.
LATER, SHELBY CORNERED her daughter in the bedroom and closed the door.
“You can fool your dad,” she said, “but you can’t ever fool me. Now come clean,” she told Morie and sat down beside her on the spotless comforter with its exquisite pastel floral design. “What really happened?”
Morie laid her head on Shelby’s shoulder. “I fell in love.”
“Really!”
“He was a beast. He had a girlfriend who was pretending to be something she’s not. She had someone plant a jeweled egg in my rucksack and went to the boss and told him I stole it from him. So he fired me. I came home. End of story.”
“He accused you of theft?” she exclaimed.
“Yes. He said he wouldn’t call the sheriff, but he fired me.”
Shelby’s dark eyes flashed. “We’ll sue him for defamation of character!”
“No, you won’t,” Morie said calmly. “It would be useless. That woman set me up. I can’t prove it, but I know she did it. He believed her,” she added with a pointed look at her mother. “No man who loved a woman would ever convict her on circumstantial evidence, no matter how damning it was.”
Shelby drew in a long breath. In a minute, she nodded. “If that’s the way you want it.”
“Please don’t tell Daddy.”
Shelby grimaced. “I have to tell him something.”
“Then embroider it a little, can’t you?” She knew that her parents never had secrets from each other. She envied them their closeness. She felt now that she’d never have anyone to share secrets with.
“I’ll soft-pedal it,” Shelby promised. “But I don’t like it. You’re no thief.”
“We know it. We don’t have to prove it to anyone.”
“That’s true enough. But I’d like to jerk a knot in your boss, and his girlfriend,” Shelby added. She wasn’t a fiery woman, but she did have a temper.
Morie hugged her. “Thanks.”
“You’re my daughter. I love you.” She kissed her cheek. She frowned. “What in the world happened to your face?”
“Just a scratch. I was moving a tree branch and it shifted. It’s only a surface one. It will heal nicely, you’ll see. Now how about a nice piece of broiled fish with herbs and butter? Please?”
Shelby laughed. “All right. Just for you. A homecoming present. I’m glad you’re back.”
“Yes.” Morie sighed as she looked around at familiar things. “So am I.”
CHAPTER NINE
MORIE THREW HERSELF into helping Shelby with details for the big production sale. In between, she had to cope with her father’s matchmaking. Daryl Coleman was tall and dark and quite good-looking. His family had huge feedlots in Northern Texas and Daryl himself was CEO of an oil company that was based in Oklahoma. He was savvy about technical innovations and a whiz with computers. He had everything a woman could have wanted. He just wasn’t Mallory Kirk.
But he liked Morie and he was always around. After Mallory’s suspicion and alternating hot-and-cold treatment, Daryl was a breath of fresh air. He had exquisite manners and he loved to dance. So did Morie. It was one of the things she loved most in life.
Daryl flew her to Dallas in the corporate jet that his family had shares in, and took her to an authentic Latin dance club.
“So you want to learn to tango,” he told her with a
grin. “This is the place to learn.”
“I’m not keen on it,” she mumbled, looking around. “It looks a whole lot easier in movies.”
“None of the movies it’s in are authentic,” he assured her. He took her right hand in his left one and rested his free hand on her waist. “Tango is a battle between a man and a woman. It’s quick and slow, insistent and sensuous. Most of it is footwork. Just follow my lead. You’re an excellent dancer. This should be easy for you.”
“Easy!” she scoffed after she’d stumbled into him three times and almost upset a waiter with a tray of drinks headed for the restaurant at the other end of the club. No alcohol was allowed near the dance floor itself.
He chuckled. “You’re rusty, kid,” he teased. “You’ve been spending too much time around cattle and not enough around attractive, dashing men like me.”
She looked up at his good looks and twinkling dark eyes and burst out laughing. “And so modest!”
“I’m modest. After all, I have so much to be modest about,” he assured her.
She leaned against him with a breathless laugh. “Daryl, you’re a wonder.”
He hugged her close. “Sure I am. You really need to marry me,” he added with a smile. “Your father says so every time he sees me.”
She grimaced. “I like you a lot, but my dad is looking at mergers, not relationships. It’s a flat economy and he’s diversifying his investments. Like your folks,” she added drily.
He shrugged. “I haven’t met anybody I really want to marry,” he said honestly. “You’re pretty and sweet, and you won’t be marrying me for my money,” he added in a cold tone.
She stopped dancing and looked up. “Somebody did want to marry you for it,” she guessed.
He nodded. “She was sweet and pretty, too. I went nuts over her. Then, just before I was getting ready to propose, I saw her at a party sneaking into a bedroom with the host. They came back out a few minutes later, disheveled and laughing, and when I asked, she said sure she slept with him. He’d given her a diamond dinner ring and she wanted to pay him back for it.” His face hardened. “She said everybody did it, why was I so uptight? It was just sex.”
Morie searched his black eyes quietly. “That’s the attitude most people have today. Everything is okay now. Multiple lovers are the rule. Funny, isn’t it, that fifty years ago men and women alike were held to a higher standard of morality and families stayed together. Isn’t the divorce rate something like fifty percent?”
“Probably higher.” He sighed. “I’m so old-fashioned that I don’t fit in anywhere.”
“So am I, sweet man,” she replied, and pressed close to him, closing her eyes. “Maybe I should marry you, Daryl. We’re alike in a lot of ways. I really do like you.”
He hugged her close. “I like you, too, honey. I guess there are worse reasons to base a marriage on.”
She kept her eyes closed as they danced and tried not to think about how it had felt when Mallory held her close and kissed her in that incredibly sexy way and made her head spin. Maybe it would be safer to marry a man she only liked. Passionate love surely made life more complicated.
He kissed her hair. “What kind of ring would you like?” he asked matter-of-factly.
She drew in a long breath. “I don’t know. Maybe a ruby. I like rubies.”
“Coincidentally, my family has investments in a jewelry chain,” he teased. “So you can have whatever stone you fancy, and we’ll have a designer make it into your dream wedding set.”
Her dream wedding set would have included Mallory as the groom, but she couldn’t say that. She was falling into her father’s net headfirst, letting him rule her life. She’d tried rebellion, however, and it had ended badly. Very badly. It might be time to listen to her father’s advice and do something sensible. After all, Daryl was highly eligible and quite good-looking, and they’d known each other for a long time. It wouldn’t be a passionate relationship. But it would be a lasting one, she was certain.
Now all she had to do was stop thinking about Mallory Kirk. That wasn’t going to be easy.
MALLORY WAS HAVING PROBLEMS of his own. His brothers refused to be in the same room with Gelly, and when she came to the ranch, they made their disapproval known by walking away the minute her small used car pulled up at the front porch.
“Do you have to make it so obvious that you don’t like her?” Mallory raged to Cane.
Cane gave him a cold look. “She framed Morie.”
“Damn it, she did not! Gelly just happened to be riding with Bates when he mentioned what he’d seen.”
“Like she just happened to know about the stolen drill in our former employee’s suitcase,” Cane retorted. “Anybody who makes Gelly mad gets fired.”
Mallory averted his dark eyes. “Coincidence.”
Cane stuck his hand in his pocket and went to the picture window to look out over the acres of green pasture just starting to stick up through the latest snow. “And I won’t agree to let her friend buy that so-called scrubland, in case you were going to ask.”
“Neither will I,” Tank added curtly as he joined them.
Mallory didn’t reply. He’d had Gelly harping on it for days. He was almost ready to sell it just to get her off his back. When she wasn’t being obnoxious, she was sweeter than she’d ever been. She caressed him and kissed him and told him how handsome he was, and how happy she was that he’d been saved from that money-grubbing girl he’d had to fire.
For a man whose lack of conventional good looks was imposing, it was an ego trip of the finest kind. It blinded him to her other faults. He wouldn’t concede that he was vulnerable because he was guilt-ridden over firing Morie on flimsy circumstantial evidence.
“Did that key to the display case ever show up?” Cane asked suddenly and with narrowed eyes.
Mallory joined him at the picture window, his hands jammed deep into his jean pockets. “Yeah,” he replied. “Found it in my coat pocket. I guess I forgot and put it there instead of back in the drawer where we keep it.”
“Odd,” Tank commented.
And Gelly knew about the key and where it was kept, because she’d admired that egg once and Mallory had pulled out the key to open the case and let her hold it. He didn’t mention that.
They moved to the display case and studied the egg.
“You know,” Mallory said suddenly, frowning, “it looks funny.”
“I was just noticing that,” Cane replied curtly. “Open it.”
Mallory brought the key out of the drawer and opened the glass doors of the ornate, wood-scrolled cabinet. He picked up the egg and frowned. “These settings look slipshod. And here—” he indicated the jewels “—they don’t look… Good God, it’s a fake!”
Cane’s jaw tautened. “A cheap fake.”
Mallory was seething. “Morie,” he said flatly. “She had the real one in her rucksack.”
“She handed it back to you,” Tank replied angrily. “You put it back in the case. I saw you do it. Morie was gone by then!”
Mallory didn’t want to admit that. It suited him to think Morie was a thief. He’d sent her packing, wounded her pride, treated her like a criminal, all on the word of a cowboy he hardly knew and a woman who harried him night and day to employ her friends and sell land to them.
His lean face was harassed. “Yes,” he had to concede, his eyes stormy. “She was gone by then.”
And all the joy in his life had gone with her. He was left with the emptiness in his heart and the certainty of long years ahead with Gelly to assuage the ache Morie had left behind. She couldn’t do it. He liked Gelly, but she didn’t stir him, not even with her most passionate kisses, except in the most basic way. Intellectually, she was a no-show. Her conversational skills revolved around popular television shows and movies and the latest fashions.
“It’s time to call in private detectives,” Cane said flatly. “In fact, Morie advised that some time ago, when I talked to her at the line cabin.”
Mallory glared at him. “What were you doing out there?”
His brother smiled coldly. “Looking for Morie after you’d upset her.”
“She was a hire. She stuck her nose into everything around here,” he muttered.
“Yes, like making canapés for a party and helping cook—and she didn’t even ask for extra pay or complain that she didn’t get it,” Tank reminded him.
Mallory felt guilty. “I meant to compensate her for that. Of course, she was running around after that judge friend of yours,” he added icily, turning to Cane.
“Danny Brannt is a gourmet chef,” Cane replied. “He and his wife have a housekeeper who was trained in Paris as a cook, and they’re always looking for new and exciting finger foods for parties. In fact, they’re famous for it. I understand that his housekeeper is helping to cater that big to-do at the Brannt Ranch next month. We were invited, I believe.”
“Yes,” Mallory murmured absently. “King Brannt has some seed bulls that are the talk of the industry. I have in mind to buy one from him for our breeding program.” He didn’t add that the mention of that last name stung. Not that Morie had any connection to that famous Brannt; she was just a poor working cowgirl.
“Can we afford one?” Cane asked amusedly. “We’re only just showing profit from the past two painful years of investments and stock adjustments.”
“We can afford one,” Mallory replied quietly. He glanced at his brother. “You and Tank are responsible for those successes as much as I am,” he added. “I know it’s been rough. I appreciate what you’ve done.”
“Hell, I appreciate what you’ve done,” Cane said. “You’ve got the business head. Tank may be the marketing specialist, and I do like showing off our bulls at cattle shows with a little help from our cowboys who travel with me, but you’re the one with the genius to know where to put the money so that it will grow. That’s no mean feat in a flat economy.”