by Soard, Lori
Okay, he’d been wrong. Not everyone could be bought. Apparently Cat couldn’t. Either that or she was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. Possibly both. He felt a reluctant tug of admiration.
What a shame her spirit and determination weren’t fighting for his cause. He’d be sure to win against the strongest opponent. They would make quite a team.
Gage’s thoughts skidded to a screeching halt like they’d slammed up against the hard surface of the mountains. A team. What if he could somehow turn this partnership into a team effort? Would she be in his corner? Then maybe he could get her cooperation on some of these issues. As it stood now, he couldn’t move ahead with any plans for the ranch. She would block him every step of the way.
But, how could he convince her that a fifty-fifty partnership wasn’t such a bad proposal? Remembering her fascination with his barely clothed body, he grinned. He’d thought before that the best way to keep her from arguing with him was to kiss her. Perhaps the best way to get her to agree with him was to seduce her.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. Cat was pregnant with another man’s baby; he shouldn’t even be thinking of getting involved. He wondered where the father was. If she was pregnant, she was the type who had been in a committed relationship…
Committed. He probably should be for what he was thinking, but what if he wooed her? Asked for her hand in marriage? It was a crazy, erratic thought and yet, when the issue of the ranch wasn’t between them they got along well enough. There was a definite physical attraction. And Cat needed someone to care for her and the child she was carrying. He could learn to love her child. He’d only avoided taking a wife because he had yet to meet a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But life with Cat would certainly never be dull.
He would have the best of both worlds. Her fire and spirit in the bedroom and her loyalty and determination to help him with his business plans. Gage grinned and threw a glance up the stairs. Yes, it was time that Catherine Claiborne started to like him. He’d charmed women before, this time wouldn’t be any different, except this time was for keeps.
*
“What is this?” Catherine wrinkled her nose at the putrid smell drifting from the interior of the small brown sack.
“Pickle Ice Cream.” Gage grinned proudly.
“Yuck!” Catherine thrust the bag back at him.
“You don’t want it?”
He looked so deflated for a moment that she almost snatched the bag back and forced herself to eat it. His woeful eyes reminded her of a little boy who’d colored a picture only to be told he hadn’t stayed in the lines.
“Would you like it?”
Gage shrugged. “No. But I’m not pregnant.”
Catherine barely managed to suppress a grimace. That pregnant thing again. How long would it come back to haunt her? About nine months?
“Thanks for the thought, Gage. But I really can’t eat that. My stomach won’t take it.”
“Oh, I knew that.” He rushed to the counter and spilled out some crackers, grabbed an already opened can of soda and carried them back to her. “Soda crackers and flat lemon-lime cola.” He placed them in front of her as if they were the most precious gemstones.
Catherine looked at them, told her stomach to quit doing flip-flops and forced herself to nibble on one. She really shouldn’t care if she hurt his feelings. Besides, she was feeling just the tiniest bit queasy. She would just have a couple of them. For her own sake, to settle her stomach. That was the only reason.
Gage moved behind her and gently messaged the tense muscles in her shoulders.
“Now what are you doing?” Catherine raised her hands and tried to push his away but he refused to move them.
“Don’t pregnant women’s backs hurt?”
Catherine wanted to scream. Did he have to throw her lie in her face every two seconds? Of course he didn’t know it was a lie. Or did he? Maybe that’s what this was all about.
“Why are you doing all this?” she asked suspiciously.
Gage hooked his foot around the chair closest to her and sat down. “I just want to get to know my partner better. Where’s the crime in that?”
Catherine narrowed her eyes. “If you think you can charm me into selling out to you…”
“No. I promise you will never hear another word from me about buying this ranch from you.”
“You don’t actually think we can work together?”
“I do. I think we should call a truce.” His mouth tilted up into that slightly lopsided grin. Catherine thought it was probably a good thing he wasn’t offering to buy the ranch at that moment. When he smiled like that, she would agree to anything. Almost.
“A truce?”
“Christmas is three days away. I don’t want to spend the holidays fighting with you.”
Catherine felt a lump of emotion ease down her throat. This would be the first Christmas without her father. Not that they ever really did much for Christmas, but at least she’d known he was in his room passed out.
“I don’t either.”
Gage reached across the table and rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. Catherine started to shake, tried to press herself into her chair to stop it, and failed miserably. Gage chuckled deep in his throat.
“Then it’s a deal. We’ll call a truce and enjoy Christmas.”
Gage’s eyes dropped to her lips and Catherine wet them nervously. “Deal.”
Gage half stood, leaned over her. “I think we should seal it.” His lips closed over hers before she could protest.
Catherine let him tease her lips, stoking the fires that had been banked within her. He ran his tongue across the center of her lips, and she opened to him. He tasted like Christmas candy canes. Catherine groaned and moved deeper into the kiss but Gage was already pulling back.
Why was he stopping? Didn’t he like her kisses? And why should she care? She didn’t really want him to kiss her. It would be better if he was disgusted by her kisses. At least then she wouldn’t be forced to endure them.
“Do you have any Christmas decorations around here?”
His green eyes sparkled.
“In the attic.”
“I’m going to go get us a tree.” He moved toward the hall.
“Not without me, you aren’t.”
“Cat, it’s freezing out there. Let me do it.”
“No. I go get the tree every year. It’s a sort of tradition. I hadn’t planned on having one this year but if we’re going to I want to help chop it down.”
“Then bundle up.”
*
Gage set a fast pace and Catherine struggled to keep up. She would never admit it. She’d insisted on coming along, and she refused to slow him down.
“This one.” Gage stood in front of a seven foot Aspen.
“No. Not that one.” Catherine tugged on his sleeve.
“And just what was wrong with that tree?”
“It’s beautiful.”
He chuckled. “That’s a problem? You want an ugly tree?”
“Not really. I just can’t bear to cut down something so majestic.”
“So, what do we do for a tree?”
“Follow me.” Catherine took big steps through the snow, leading him to the edge of a line of trees. “Over there.”
He followed the direction of her pointing finger. “That thing? You’re kidding right?”
“Please Gage. It’s dying anyway. I know it isn’t the prettiest tree but it won’t survive ‘till spring. This is its one chance at beauty.” Catherine could feel her eyes misting over with emotion.
“You really do love this land, don’t you?” Gage’s voice was filled with a quiet acceptance.
“I love every tree, stream, and mountain peak.”
Saying the words freed her to an extent. Yes, someday she wanted to see the world. But through being forced to stay here and help her father care for the place, it had crept into her heart and rooted itself there. She still wanted
to take more risks, live a little, break free from her normal, dull self. But she now realized it was possible to do that right where she was.
Her gaze landed on Gage. What better place to start than by allowing a friendship to form between her and Gage? True, she’d never really wanted a partner, but that had been the old Catherine. The new Catherine realized it would give her a little time to pursue some outside interests. She might even take a couple of classes at one of the nearby colleges. When money was better, maybe she could take a trip somewhere.
It was time to be honest, too. No more pretending. Her hand fell on her stomach. “Gage—”
“Shhh! Look.” A white-tailed deer dodged and darted through the trees before stopping and sniffing the air. Its wide-brown eyes rested on them and the creature looked startled for a heartbeat before bounding off.
“Gage, I need to confess something.” She would tell him before she lost her nerve.
“Shhh! Truce remember? No confessions until after Christmas.” He jogged over to the tree she’d chosen and raised the ax. “You’re certain this is the one you want?”
“Yes, but—” Catherine tried again.
Gage swung the ax, it arced out and down, hitting the base of the tree with a hollow thunk. He pulled back for another chop and Catherine felt her knees grow unsteady. The recollection of his bare chest surfaced and she could sense the powerful ripple of muscles under his heavy parka.
In half the time it would have taken her, Gage had felled the tree. He grabbed the end and pulled it behind him, its sparse needles left a faint, snake-like trail in the snow.
Excitement bubbled up in Catherine, reminding her of how she’d felt at five, waiting for Santa to come. The giddy, sleeplessness. The breathless peeking through the stair railing. Perhaps this Christmas wouldn’t be a disappointment..
Chapter nine
Gage settled the tree in the corner of the living room. The familiar action brought an embarrassing moistness to his eyes and he turned to hide it from Cat. Memories of childhood Christmases rushed in and blanketed him like the comfortable old afghan his mother had knitted one long winter. He could picture he and his sister clambering down the stairs at the first speck of light on Christmas morning. Then, tearing into presents, looking for that one special wish. Listening to his mother and father arguing about ranch life.
Gage closed the door on that thought. “What do you think?”
Cat was staring at the opposite corner of the room. She nodded her head in that direction. “Pop and I always had the tree there. Do you think? Would you mind—” she trailed off and chewed on her lower lip.
Gage sighed. Things changed, times changed. If he intended to marry this woman, he would have to compromise on some things. He shrugged and began shoving the tree to her spot. “Sure. But next year it goes over here.”
“N-next year?” Cat stared at him, an indiscernible emotion shining out of her blue eyes.
“Next year,” he said firmly. “Just think, the baby will be here by then.”
He adjusted the tree in its stand and turned back to face her. She was shivering and rubbing her hands over her arms. Gage rushed to her, concerned. “Are you sick? Is it the baby?”
She nodded her head, heavy tears poured over the rim of her eyes and avalanched down her cheeks. Gage patted her on the shoulder. What was he supposed to do now? Had he said something to make her cry? He stroked his hand over her hair, thinking how silky it felt.
“Gage—” Cat’s blue eyes were washed to a brilliant aqua from the salt of her tears. “It’s about the baby.”
Guilt gave him a swift kick in the ribs. He’d wanted the ranch and to get it he’d made her doubt her ability to raise this baby. He was a heel. A total jerk. He laid two fingers against her lips, stopping what she was going to say.
“Don’t worry, Cat. It will all work out. You won’t have to raise this baby and run this ranch all by yourself.” He tried to tuck her head against his shoulder but she stiffened and shoved away from him, the heels of her palms digging into his chest.
“I am not giving up this ranch.” The tears disappeared, replaced by anger.
She thought he meant he was taking the ranch from her, when what he really meant was something quite different. “Cat, all I meant was—”
Cat interrupted him before he could finish. “There is no reason to worry that I wouldn’t be able to care for the ranch and ‘this’ baby.” Her lips twisted into a lopsided sneer.
Gage opened his mouth to set her straight on her misconceptions of his intentions, but Cat was on a roll. He felt a shimmer of amusement course through his veins. Cat stood with her feet slightly apart, hands planted on her slim hips and she flipped her hair every four seconds to add emphasis to her speech.
“I’ve been trying to tell you for days.” Suddenly her eyes shifted to the side and down, a dull red flush stole up her cheeks. “It’s about the baby.”
“What about the baby?” Was she going to tell him she was marrying the father? He wouldn’t have a chance against that would he? Cat must have loved the guy to be having his baby. Why did that thought feel like a branding iron marking his gut and leaving it burning?
“It isn’t.”
“Isn’t what?” What was she talk about? A niggling suspicion tugged at his conscious, but he shoved it down as too devious for Cat.
“It just isn’t. There is no baby.”
Her words smashed into his windpipe like a well-aimed horse’s kick. That wasn’t possible. There had to be a baby. His entire plan was based on there being a baby. He’d even bought her ice cream with pickles in it.
“No baby?”
Cat shook her head, another tear splashed onto her cheek and rolled down her face. Gage ignored the flutter of sympathy he felt over her tears. She didn’t deserve sympathy. She’d outright lied to him to avoid his efforts to buy the ranch. She had manipulated him.
But why did that even surprise him? It was exactly what her father would have done in the same situation. It really was true that the apple didn’t fall far from the rotten core.
Gage glanced her up and down, making his loathing apparent. He ignored the hurt in her eyes. It wasn’t real. Claibornes didn’t feel true emotions, they only pretended to, if it suited their purposes. Calmly, he pushed his hand through the scraggly branches of the evergreen, grasped the gnarled wood of the trunk and moved the tree back to the other side of the room. If she wanted the tree where Mustang had kept it, she could move it herself.
*
Catherine watched Gage stride from the room with long, angry steps. She didn’t care what he thought. His only goal was to steal her land from her. Swindle it out of her and then build a scar on the face of the landscape.
If she didn’t care, then why did she feel deflated? It was similar to the feeling she’d had every Christmas morning of her life. She would rush down the stairs and make a nose-dive for the tree, certain that Santa left something, anything for her. Each year she’d been disappointed. It hadn’t been long until she’d stopped believing in Santa, but she’d always still held that hope that her father would remember her this Christmas. There would be a present under the tree for her this Christmas. She would be happy this Christmas.
You’d think by now she’d learn not to get her hopes up. And yet she did. Even now, with her father gone, and it too late to expect him to finally remember, she’d let the fantasy of a happy Christmas with Gage wrap around her heart.
“Admit it, Catherine,” she whispered, rubbing her arms to combat the chills racing through her body. “You had visions of tearing into a prettily wrapped package and you didn’t care who it was from.”
Well, no more. The new Catherine did not have time for this foolishness and refused to waste another moment of her life hoping for something that would never be. She would go into town and buy her own Christmas present, wrap it, and place it under the tree. No use sitting around forever and waiting on Santa. Santa was a male just like all the other undependable males in
her life. She couldn’t count on him, she’d learned that a long time ago.
The bustle of last-minute shoppers shouldering her out of the way and the tinkle of the bell-ringers on each corner should have irritated her, but it only served to put Catherine in a wistful, Christmassy mood. Her imagination took over. Pop had always said when they’d been handing out dreams, she’d fallen into the imagination tub and almost drowned. Catherine could almost feel their hopes and dreams and the happy little Christmases they each planned to go home to. Each person searched for that perfect gift, something the receiver would cherish. The very thought of that giving brought a glow to the shoppers’ faces. How she wished she had just one such Christmas to compare to theirs. One brief moment of happiness was better than the empty void she carried in her.
Catherine swallowed several times against the heavy tears clogging her throat. Normally, she’d buy a present for Pop. Never mind that he never remembered her, she’d always handed him a neatly wrapped and beribboned package on Christmas morning. Well, actually, it was usually Christmas evening by the time he woke up from his drunken daze. This year, there was no one to buy for, she didn’t even have a cat. Weren’t pathetic, lonely women supposed to at least have a cat?
A display of heavy, insulated leather gloves caught her eye. Before she could slap it down, her imagination conjured the image of Gage rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. Gloveless. Her hand reached out to touch the gloves before her mind registered the motion.
The soft rasp of cowhide slid over her fingertips and the heavy scent of tanned leather rose to tease her nostrils. She slid her hand into one of the gloves and immediately felt the warm comfort of the insulation. She closed her eyes. She shouldn’t. He wouldn’t appreciate it, just like Pop. He was a jerk and a swindler.
He was also the only thing standing between her and a solitary Christmas. Surely one little gift wouldn’t compromise her position. It was the season of good will after all. What was one little gift? Feeling a light skip in her pulse, Catherine grabbed the larger size and headed for the register before she could change her mind. What was it about giving that made you feel almost giddy, like you’d just eaten candy canes, rich fudge and a box of fine chocolates all in one sitting? Catherine could hardly wait to see the expression on Gage’s face when he found a present under the tree on Christmas morning.