An Indecent Proposal

by Sandra Marton

  Why was it so hard to draw breath into her lungs? Why was she so aware of his hand on her shoulder? Layers of fabric separated his fingertips and her bare skin, but still heat seemed to inundate her blood and penetrate to her bones.

  Angelica jerked away. “And you,” she said sharply, “are making a big mistake if you think I’m some—some wide-eyed little thing you can browbeat into submission. If you came here for a purpose, please get to it. Otherwise, I’d like you to leave. It’s been a long day, and-”

  “And it’s going to be a longer one tomorrow. I’m going out to see the Gordon operation near Odessa in the morning.”

  Angelica gritted her teeth. “Why tell me? Surely, you haven’t suddenly decided to ask permission?”

  “I’ve a general idea where the site is,” Cade said, ignoring the challenge, “but I need directions. A map, if you have one.”

  “Certainly. Directions. A map.” Her smile was brittle. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Be sure you remember to set your alarm clock.” A smile tilted across his mouth. “I’ll be at your door at six, and I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  She stared after him as he turned and walked off. At the last second, she called after him.

  “What do you mean, you’ll be at my door at six?” Her voice rose, bearing just a touch of shrillness. “I’m not going with you to Odessa, Cade.”

  He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and looked at her. “Of course you are,” he said gently.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “You’ve spent the day prying into every corner of my life—”

  “Of this company’s life, sugar. There’s a difference.”

  “The point I’m making,” she said coldly, “is that you’ve managed quite nicely without any help from me. Why you should change your mind now is—”

  “Six o’clock. And please dress appropriately.” His eyes raked over her, then came to rest on her face. “Those gunnysacks may be the latest thing at Miss Palmer’s but they won’t stand up to a day out on the West Texas flats.”

  Angelica flushed. “Just give me one good reason I should go to Odessa with you,” she demanded.

  The easy laughter fled Cade’s face.

  “Because I say you will,” he snapped, “and because my word is law around here. Is that a good enough reason for you, Angelica?”

  The door slammed shut after him. Angelica stood still for a long moment. Then she mouthed a word she’d never before even thought, reached for Management Psychology and hurled it into the wastebasket.

  Odessa was almost four hundred miles away.

  How would she and Cade Landon manage the endless drive without killing each other?

  * * *

  At a quarter to six the next morning, Angelica stepped out on the gently sagging porch of the house that had been her father’s. She peered up and down the quiet street and then, with a little sigh, she sat down in an old wicker rocker, folded her hands in her lap and settled in to wait.

  She’d debated with herself for the past quarter hour, trying to decide if it was best to be ready when Cade arrived or if it would give her the advantage to keep him cooling his heels. The desire to do just that had been almost overwhelming, but finally common sense had overridden ego.

  Making Cade wait would only get him angry, and the day was going to be miserable enough without that kind of start.

  She rose, walked to the railing and peered up and down the street. Sunrise had brought a flush of pink to the distant hills and gilded the aspens that stood like sentinels along the curb.

  Across the way, an elderly gentleman stood on his porch, drinking coffee and gazing at the first autumn leaves that waited for the touch of the rake. A few houses down, a woman emerged in a green jogging suit yawned, stretched, then set off at an easy trot.

  There was still no sign of Cade.

  Frowning, Angelica glanced at her watch. It was almost six. Maybe she should have waited inside. Maybe he was the one who was going to keep her waiting. Maybe—

  “Well, you’re prompt. That’s one thing in your favor, I guess.”

  She looked up. Cade was standing at the foot of the porch steps, a shiny black pickup truck parked behind him at the curb. Her gaze flew over him. The custom-made suits, the white shirts and silk ties, were gone. Even the highly polished boots had been replaced.

  He was dressed, instead, in jeans that fit his long legs and narrow hips snugly, and a faded wool shirt with the sleeves rolled back to the elbows. Scuffed, scarred boots showed from beneath his jeans and a cap bearing the logo of the Colorado Rockies baseball team was pulled down low over his forehead.

  This, Angelica thought, bristling, was no way to pay a visit to a company installation. Cade didn’t look professional, he didn’t look managerial, he didn’t look like he was the man in charge. He looked like one of the roughnecks who worked the rigs, he looked—he looked…

  Her mouth went dry. He looked more handsome than any man had a right to look.

  She frowned. Who cared how he looked? Cade Landon could look like a stand-in for Bela Lugosi, for all it mattered to her.

  “Dammit, Angelica, what in hell are you wearing?”

  Cade was glaring at her angrily. She leaned away from the rail, looked down at her seersucker suit, then at him.

  “What do you mean, what am I wearing?”

  “Don’t answer a question with a question, woman. What do you call that outfit you’ve got on?”

  “It’s a suit,” she said coolly. “I’m sure you’ve heard the word before.”

  Cade tilted his cap back. His eyes were very blue in the early morning light.

  “I told you we were going to Odessa,” he said. “But you’re dressed for the office.”

  “I am dressed for a day in the field.”

  He gave her a pitying smile. “According to who? The guy who wrote Dress for Success!”

  “Make fun all you like, Cade, but if you knew anything about managing people—”

  “I hate to disappoint you, sugar, but I manage people all the time.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said with a disdainful smile. “And I’ll bet they jump through hoops. After all, you’re the great Cade Landon, of Landon Enterprises.”

  “Jesus, here it comes.” Cade rolled his eyes to the heavens. “The lecture about how tough it is to claw and fight your way to the top.”

  “No lectures,” Angelica said coldly, “just a common sense piece of advice. Don’t try to pretend you’re one of the boys. It doesn’t work, and the men won’t respect you for it.”

  “A brilliant analysis, I’m sure. Now, go on into that house and change into a pair of jeans.”

  “Listen, Cade, you may have the right to tell me what to do at the office, but when it comes to my personal life, to what I wear, for goodness sake, I make my own decisions! Is that clear?”

  Cade shook his head in disgust. The woman was incredible. The time he’d spent poking into her business affairs had convinced him she probably shouldn’t even be trusted to keep her own checkbook, she had the disposition of a desert viper, and now it turned out she just about had the common sense of one, too.

  He’d made it clear where they were going to spend the day. They were going to inspect half a dozen oil wells in the middle of nowhere, and here she was, dressed for that damned fool girl’s school—which was exactly where she belonged. He took a breath, then let it go. Hell, there was no sense in dwelling on that until he had a surefire way to get rid of her.

  Until then, he was just going to have to put up with her—but on his terms. And, right at this minute, that meant he’d be damned if he’d take a woman with her legs hanging out—well, considering the length of her skirts, it was her ankles that were hanging out, but the principle was the same.

  He absolutely was not going to let a woman dressed the way she was stroll around a place where there were snakes, scorpions and enough mean equipment to ruin anybody’s day.

  And that
hair, he thought furiously. Why did she insist on pulling it back like that? Why didn’t she let it hang loose, soft and silky down her back—

  “What are you looking at?”

  Cade blinked. What in God’s name did her hair have to do with anything?

  “At a woman who hasn’t got the sense she was bora with,” he snarled. “A seersucker suit and shoes like that for a day in the oil fields—unbelievable!”

  “What’s the matter?” Angelica asked, with a toosweet smile. “Are you afraid the crew will take me for the boss and you for just another dime-store cowboy?”

  He was up the steps and next to her before she could finish the sentence. He caught hold of her wrist, putting just enough pressure on it so she knew it would be a mistake to try to twist free.

  “You’ve got sharp claws, sugar,” he whispered, “and an even sharper mouth.” He moved closer, his eyes dark and unreadable in the shadow cast by the bill of his cap. His hands moved to her face and clasped it, and all at once his voice thickened. “Maybe somebody ought to soften that mouth just a little.”

  Slowly, slowly, his head dipped toward hers. She took a steadying breath, gearing herself for the harsh stamp of male authority she knew had to be coming…

  But when his mouth touched hers, it was in the softest of kisses. His lips moved over hers in a clinging caress.

  Angelica made a soft sound that might have been protest or acceptance. Her head tilted back like a flower on a stem, her eyes closed—and with a swiftness that left her swaying, Cade let her go.

  “If you own anything as common as a pair of jeans,” he said in an expressionless voice, “go put them on. Trousers, otherwise. And boots, if you have them, or at least a pair of sturdy shoes.”

  He saw the defiance flash in her eyes, but that was better than the blur of confusion that had been there seconds ago.

  Kissing her had been crazy. Hell, there were better ways to silence a woman like this.

  And yet, as she went on standing there, meeting his gaze without backing down, Cade felt the blood begin to thrum in his ears.

  What if she really did defy him? He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—let her get away with it.

  Was he going to have to pick her up bodily and carry her into that little house, up the stairs to whatever dark bedroom was hers? Her mouth, even that vicious tongue, would soften then, he was sure of it. Every part of her would turn soft under his lips and his hands, until finally she would cry out his name and beg him to bury himself inside her…

  The unbidden images sent a sharp wave of desire coursing through his body, tightening every muscle he possessed. Something of what he was feeling must have shown in his face because Angelica suddenly took a step back.

  “You’re a despicable human being,” she hissed, and she turned and fled.

  Cade stood still for a moment. Then he gave a shaky laugh, turned and trotted down the steps. He wasn’t despicable. He was stupid. When you started having fantasies about women like Angelica Gordon, you were in trouble. What man knew that better than he?

  Too much Texas sun, he thought, and he climbed into the rented truck, tilted back the seat, pulled down his cap and settled in to wait.

  He had the definite feeling Angelica was going to take her own sweet time about reappearing.

  After five minutes on the road, it was obvious Cade wasn’t heading for Interstate 20, the highway that tied Dallas and Fort Worth to West Texas. He steered the pickup down one narrow dirt road after another, always, Angelica noticed with displeasure, driving at least ten miles over the speed limit.

  “This isn’t the way to Odessa,” she finally said, when they had to stop at a train crossing. Cade didn’t answer, and her voice rose a little. “I said, this is not the way to my wells.”

  “No,” he said with a tight smile. “It’s the way to mine.”

  Angelica’s eyes flashed. “Very witty, but—”

  “Did you bring the map I asked for?”

  “Yes, but what’s the point if—”

  The crossing gates lifted. Cade shifted into gear and the truck shot forward.

  “Plot us the most direct way to get from Route 302, just outside Notrees, to the wells.”

  “Notrees? But why would we—”

  “Can you figure a route, Angelica? Or would you rather I did it myself?”

  She glared at him, then whipped the map from her purse and snapped it open.

  “Notrees to the wells,” she said, “yes, sir, Mr. Landon, sir.”

  Cade laughed. “Now you’re getting the idea, sugar.”

  She shot him another furious look, then buried her face in the map. When she looked up again, they were on a dusty airfield, pulling alongside a small aircraft.

  “What is this?” she said in surprise.

  “A Piper Apache,” Cade answered, deadpan.

  “You know what I mean, dammit! Did you rent a plane? The company can’t afford—”

  “Gordon can’t.” He opened his door and got out of the truck. “But I can. Well? Are you coming, or are you just going to sit there?”

  Angelica muttered something, threw open her door and stepped down to the ground. She walked toward Cade, who was already standing in the open doorway of the small plane. He held out his hand, but she ignored it and hoisted herself inelegantly on board.

  “It must be nice to own a company that has money to burn,” she said coldly.

  Cade didn’t bother answering. The money he was burning today was strictly his own, but that was none of her business.

  “Where’s the pilot?”

  “You’re looking at him,” he said with a lazy smile.

  “You mean—” Angelica stared at him as he climbed into the pilot’s seat. “You mean, you’re driving this thing?”

  “I’m flying it, yes.” He reached out, tapped a gauge on the instrument panel, then looked at her and grinned. “You’re as transparent as glass, sugar. What’s the matter? Do you want to see my license before you trust yourself to my tender, loving care?”

  Angelica tossed her head. “I’d sooner trust a scorpion,” she said, and flounced into the seat beside him, “but what choice do I have?”

  Cade laughed. “None at all,” he said, and Angelica gritted her teeth at how very true that was.

  * * *

  The flight was smooth, she had to admit, and Cade seemed to be a competent pilot. And it was fascinating to watch the West Texas landscape unroll beneath them, juniper and oak-covered hills giving way to the mesquite and scrub oak of the plains.

  Still, Angelica was relieved when the Apache began its descent. There was something disconcerting about sitting close beside Cade in the little plane, the warm sunlight heating the cabin. It was too intimate, too much like—like being the last people on the planet.

  He brought the Apache to a stop in a place that seemed devoid of life and climbed down from the plane. Angelica ignored his outstretched hand, as she had at the start of the flight, and jumped to the ground herself.

  The wind moaned and whipped at her hair. Except for a fast-moving horned lizard, a lonely stand of pump jacks and a dusty pickup truck that might have been the twin to the one they’d left behind in Dallas, they were alone.

  “So much for your navigation skill,” Angelica said with a frosty smile. “I hate to tell you this, but we’re nowhere near—”

  Cade went to the truck, opened the door and got behind the wheel. An instant later the engine coughed to life. He rolled down the window and looked at Angelica.

  “Well? Are you coming?”

  Damn, she thought, and started toward him. The wind snatched at her hair again and the coated rubber band that had secured it flew off. The copper-colored strands burst free and slapped across her face.

  With grim determination, she climbed into the truck and slammed the door.

  Cade stepped on the gas, and the truck lurched over the rutted road. Questions danced through Angelica’s mind. Where had Cade gotten this truck? Whose was it? How had he made a
rrangements to have it here, ready and waiting?

  “I have a buddy lives in Notrees.” Angelica swung toward him. His eyes were on the road ahead. “I called him last night, asked him if he had something he could leave out here for me to use.”

  “Fascinating,” Angelica said politely.

  Cade sighed. “What route do I take?”

  The one straight to hell, she wanted to say. But she didn’t. Cade was about to have a very bad day. He’d had a free hand so far, but if he really imagined his pseudo-work outfit and his pickup truck were going to win him any points from a gang of roughnecks, he was in for a big surprise. Men who sweated to wrest oil from the earth hadn’t won their nickname for their charm.

  “Well?” Cade said dryly. “Do you want to tell me how to get to the Gordon site or shall I guess?”

  “Take the first right after we get on the main road and I’ll direct you from there.”

  “Fine.”

  Better than fine, Angelica thought.

  Cade Landon, captain of industry, was about to meet his Waterloo—and she was going to relish every moment.

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, Angelica was sitting on a wooden bench in the dubious shade of a scrub oak, trying to hang onto a smile that felt as if it had been pasted on her face.

  Lunch had just ended, and a good thing, too. It had been an impromptu feast, with Cade—and with her, the men kept insisting, though anyone could see it was an out-and-out lie—as guests of honor.

  Two hours, she thought glumly, two whole hours of Cade and the crew exchanging hair-raising tales of derring-do in the Middle East, in Texas, in Oklahoma and in places she’d never heard of before, accompanied by enough oversize sandwiches and long-necked bottles of beer to keep a small army happy.

  Now, her men—her men, dammit—had whisked Cade off to show him some piece of equipment that had them all close to ecstasy, leaving her behind.

  “You just sit here and stay comfortable,” Tom, her foreman, had crooned.

  Angelica’s jaw tightened. “Damn you to hell, Cade Landon,” she muttered under her breath. “You’re nothing but a lying, sneaking rat!”

  She had spent the past couple of days gloating over how he didn’t know a thing about the oil business only to learn that, as far as her crew was concerned, Cade Landon was the oil business!