Wyoming Heart

by Diana Palmer

  Mina laughed. She was still getting used to her pen name. Few people knew it, even around Catelow. “Thank you so much for giving this party for me.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I wanted to show you off,” Pam confessed, and laughed. “Your books are so full of humor and adventure. I adore them. You’re so talented! This new book is the best of the bunch. You wait—it will be the one that catapults you to the top of the national bestseller lists!”

  “You’ll inflate my head to a shocking size,” Mina cautioned, flushing. “And my ego as well. You mustn’t do that. I’ll become haughty and unmanageable.”

  Pam laughed with pure delight. “Never! Come, and let me introduce you to some people. A lot of us read you, including at least one of the husbands. He hunts in the fall. He takes your books with him to read while he’s waiting lonely hours for deer or elk to show up!”

  “How very flattering,” Mina said, and meant it.

  “And I shouldn’t say,” Pam added, lowering her voice, “but at least one husband used your latest book to compromise his wife. He bought it in a bookstore and brought it home. She said she’d have done anything to get it.” She laughed. “And just between us, I believe she did!”

  “Oh my.” Mina burst out laughing.

  “And there’s my friend Mary,” she indicated a brunette standing just apart from the others near the drinks table. “She’s dying to meet you...!”

  * * *

  MINA HAD BEEN introduced to so many people, her head was spinning with names. But she and Sassy and John, Sassy’s husband, moved to a corner to talk cattle after the first fervor of Mina’s presence was past with her hostess and guests. They didn’t drink, which set them apart from some of the other guests, who were going through their hosts’ stock of liquor like water.

  “I’m giving Bill my oldest bull,” Mina told them. “It got through the fence and damaged a young bull, again. It hurt another so badly that he had to be put down. It was either give him away or sell him for beef, and I think poor Bill would have worn black for a year. He loves that old bull.”

  “Nice solution,” John Callister chuckled. “A bull who hates the competition that much is dangerous to have around,” he added more somberly.

  “Yes, which is why Bill’s getting him.”

  Sassy had gone to the drinks table to get ginger ale for herself and her husband, after Mina had declined. She looked out of sorts.

  “What’s ailing you?” John drawled with a tender smile.

  “That Merridan woman,” Sassy said curtly, glaring toward a brunette with sleek, short black hair wearing a dress that showed most of what she had. “She’s gone through two husbands and now she’s flirting with Daisy Harrington’s husband. He’s just eating it up and Daisy went toward the restroom with tears running down her cheeks.”

  “Every apple barrel has a rotten apple somewhere in it,” John said. “But in case you wondered, I’m immune,” he added with a rakish grin and bent to brush his lips over Sassy’s pert nose.

  She wrinkled her nose at him and laughed. “I knew that.”

  To Mina, who knew women like Ida Merridan very well, that kittenish, come-hither attitude was disgusting. That it worked on men so well was unfathomable. Couldn’t they see that it was just an act? Her mother had been exactly the same, promising paradise, but for a price. Ida was dripping diamonds and rubies, and Mina would have bet that she hadn’t paid for a single one of them herself.

  She was working on an older man, who was dressed in what looked like a designer suit. Her long red nails teased at his chest, like blood against the blinding white of his shirt. He was flushed and laughing, obviously flattered by the attentions of a woman half his age, more beautiful than any other woman in the room.

  She really was gorgeous, Mina was thinking. Ida had jet-black hair, cut short, like a pixie cap around her delicate features. She had blue eyes and a pretty, pouting mouth. Her figure was perfect, displayed in a dress that probably cost more than Mina’s whole net worth—a black sheath with crystal accents that hugged every curve, cut low in front, but just low enough to still be decent in company.

  Obviously, she thought, that woman had never been hunted by men when she was in her early teens. Just thinking about how her mother’s endless parade of men had approached her made her sick. One or two had been actually kind. The rest...

  She sipped her soft drink and sighed. She wished she could find an excuse to go home. She felt as out of place as a cotton handkerchief at a silk bazaar.

  “Hey, Miss Mina,” Bill called from behind her.

  She turned, brightening. “Hi,” she returned. “Get the fence sorted out?”

  “I did,” he said. He looked around at the glittering array of guests and winced. “Didn’t realize there were going to be so many fancy people,” he said in a low voice.

  “Never you mind,” she returned. “Fine feathers make exotic birds, but it’s the drab little birds that excel.”

  “Now that makes me feel better,” he said with a grin. He glanced at the dance floor, where people were shuffling around to the melody the live band was playing. “That’s a two-step. Only dance I know how to do,” he added with a meaningful look at Mina. “You did promise,” he reminded her.

  “So I did. We mustn’t be wallflowers,” she teased. She put down her soft drink. “I hope I can remember how to do a two-step. I watched a dance competition once.”

  He led her onto the dance floor. “Didn’t you go to dances at school?”

  She shook her head. “I was much too shy. I never even looked at boys.” She grimaced, remembering why.

  He danced well. “Your mother was a piece of work,” he murmured.

  “She was that. But lots of people have bad childhoods and survive them.” She grinned. “I got a career as a writer for my own reward. It was worth it. Well, almost.”

  “Hard times make tough people,” he agreed. “It’s no sort of world for cream puffs these days.”

  “My thoughts, exactly.” She sighed. “What did the vet say about our injured young bull?”

  “He said he’ll mend. Made me feel better that he wasn’t going to have to be euthanized, like the other one was.”

  “Me, too,” she said, and smiled.

  “There’s Bart,” he said, looking over her shoulder. He sighed. “He’s got that pretty feller with him.”

  Her heart jumped. She hated it when it did that. Her brown eyes turned toward the newcomers. Bart looked nice in a suit. His cousin, however, was absolutely devastating. He knew it, too. That insolent, arrogant smile said everything. His pale brown eyes slid around the room until they lit on Mina. One eyebrow went up.

  “I’ve surprised him,” she told Bill as they danced.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Bart’s venomous houseguest. He’s staring at me.”

  “No surprise there, Miss Mina. You look real pretty.”

  “I’d rather have a copperhead find me pretty,” she muttered under her breath as Bart and his cousin Cort came onto the dance floor toward Mina and Bill.

  “So you did make it,” Bart said with a big grin. “You look gorgeous, Mina,” he added gently.

  She smiled. “Thanks. I had a little free time, so I took down the curtains in the living room and made this cool ensemble.”

  Cort’s pale brown eyes swept over her. “Not bad, for a homemade dress,” he said indifferently.

  She flushed. He made her feel poor and cheap. The dress was off-the-rack, but he made it sound as if she’d sewn it by hand, and badly.

  “It was a joke. I don’t sew,” she said icily.

  “No. You knit. Don’t you?” His smile was arrogant and cold.

  She couldn’t kick him. She really wanted to.

  “How about giving me a turn, Bill?” Bart asked when the music stopped.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Riddle,” the
older man returned with a grin. “Thanks, Miss Mina,” he added, making her a half bow before he melted into the crowd.

  “I haven’t ever danced much, you know, Bart,” she faltered.

  “We’ll struggle along together.”

  “And I thought this party was going to be dull,” Cort mused. His eyes were focused on the refreshment table. Or, rather, what was standing beside it. Ida Merridan was giving Cort the eye, smiling like a tiger looking over a piece of juicy meat. “Who’s the gorgeous lady?” he asked Bart, with a smug, dismissive glance at Mina before his eyes went back to the brunette.

  “That’s Ida Merridan,” Bart told him. “She’s divorced from her second husband.”

  He pursed his sensuous lips. “What sort of fool divorces a woman who looks like that?” Cort wondered.

  “Men who can see beyond makeup,” Mina quipped. “But then, it takes a discerning man to manage that.” She smiled demurely.

  Cort glared at her. “At least she doesn’t dress like a woman from the Third Crusade,” he said in a soft, cutting tone, his eyes disparaging Mina’s very conventional dress.

  She just looked at him and smiled, her heart breaking at the sarcasm that came so easily to him. “Oh, I don’t have a good divorce lawyer, much less a rich ex-husband, so I can hardly aspire to her wardrobe.”

  “You could hardly aspire to a man, full stop,” he retorted, turning to go.

  “Cort, for God’s sake,” Bart began.

  Mina put a hand on his arm. “Your cousin is entitled to his opinion,” she said. “He likes sausage grinders.”

  Cort stared at her, confused.

  “You’ll understand after Mrs. Merridan feeds you through one. Do have fun.”

  She turned back to Bart, pointedly ignoring Cort. “I need to ask you something about my taxes,” she began.

  Cort cursed under his breath and went across the room to the divorcée. He didn’t even look back.

  * * *

  “HE’S MORE ABRASIVE than he used to be,” he told Mina. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have brought him to the party if I’d realized how he was going to behave toward you. I don’t want your special evening ruined.”

  “As if he could,” she said, pretending for all she was worth. She smiled. “I’m having a good time.”

  “Well.” He drew in a long breath and glanced over at Cort, who was just drawing the divorcée onto the dance floor. “I’m glad.”

  They were playing some Latin tune now. Bart stopped and led Mina off the floor. Neither of them could do those dances. Cort, apparently, could. He drew Ida along with him to the rhythm and sighs went up from the female guests as he danced a samba with his partner. He was good. He laughed as he moved to the rhythm. The divorcée laughed, too. She had stars in her eyes. Or diamonds, more likely, Mina thought wickedly. She was going to be so disappointed when she discovered that her partner was just a working cowboy. It made Mina feel better. Well, a little better, at least.

  “What about your taxes?” Bart asked as they sat down in the living room among several other guests.

  “It wasn’t really that. I’m just not sure I did the right thing about my bull.”

  He frowned. “What bull?”

  “Old Charlie. He attacked another of my young bulls and did so much damage that the younger one had to be put down. I gave Charlie to Bill. I was afraid to sell him, in case he did the same thing to another rancher’s bulls. He’s aggressive.”

  “Bill loves the old animal. And he’s only got a handful of female cows. It should be all right. Charlie doesn’t attack people. Well, not often—just when he’s moved off the cows in late summer. And Bill can handle him. He’s worked cattle for years.”

  She looked up at him. “Anybody can get gored. I’d feel responsible if anything happened to Bill.”

  He patted her hand. “Don’t you worry about him. Everything will be fine. That was a generous thing to do. Charlie would have sold for a good bit of money.”

  She made a face. “I’m signing a new contract next month. It will be for ten times what I could have sold Charlie for.”

  He laughed. “Congratulations! I told you that talent would make you rich one day.”

  “Not rich. Not just yet. But much better off than I’ve ever been. Cousin Rogan says I need to buy at least two new bulls and some open heifers at the Production Sale the Terrances are having next month.” She glanced at him. “Want to go with me? I could use some advice.”

  He chuckled. “I’d love to. Just let me know when.”

  She glanced toward the dance floor. A bluesy tune was playing now, and Cort Grier had Ida wrapped around him like ivy. The way he was holding her made Mina uncomfortable. Even a novice could see experience in the way he looked at the woman in his arms, in the way his body melded itself to hers.

  “How long is your cousin staying?” she asked stiffly.

  He sighed. “Not for long. Maybe.”

  That was less than encouraging. She changed the subject.

  * * *

  A FEW MINUTES LATER, while Mina was saying her goodbyes and getting her coat, Cort paused at Bart’s side.

  “Do you mind if I bring Ida back to the ranch with me?” he asked lazily.

  Bart stiffened and glared at his cousin. “Yes, I do. That woman has the morals of an alley cat. I don’t want her seen on my place.”

  Cort’s eyebrows arched up. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You tomcat around all you like, cousin. Do whatever you please, as long as you don’t involve me. I don’t approve of that sort of behavior and I won’t condone it. Least of all on my own property.”

  Cort stared at his cousin as if he’d gone insane. “Everybody does it,” he began hesitantly.

  “I don’t.” Bart looked absolutely intimidating. “A lot of people around here don’t. We’re a churchgoing community, for the most part.”

  “Isn’t that just a little backward?” Cort chided softly.

  “Pardon me for being out of step with the anything-goes society you’re used to. I don’t deal in used women.”

  It took Cort a minute to get that. He had to stifle the laughter that welled up in him. “Used women.”

  “Damned well used, from appearances,” Bart said. He glared at Cort. “There are three motels in town. Be my guest.”

  Cort sighed, shrugged and went back to the divorcée.

  Mina came back with her coat draped around her, having thanked Pam for the party and said goodbye to a couple of readers. She was surprised at Bart’s indignant look. “Everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.

  He shook himself mentally and forced a smile. “Of course it is. I’ll follow you home, just in case.”

  She laid a small hand on his sleeve. “You don’t have to do that.”

  He just smiled at her. “You’re my best friend,” he said softly. “Of course I have to do that.”

  She smiled back.

  Cort glared at the two of them. So much for Bart’s assurances that the plain woman standing with him was just a friend. That looked a lot more than friendly.

  “Wasn’t this party supposed to be in honor of some author Pam Simpson knows?” Ida asked as they moved toward the front door. “Willow Shane, who wrote that new book SPECTRE?”

  “Beats me,” Cort said.

  They moved just ahead of Bart and Mina in the small group headed out the front door.

  “The dancing was fun, anyway,” Ida said, almost purring. “Coming home with me?” she added to Cort.

  “You bet,” he drawled, making sure that his uptight cousin and that vicious woman beside him heard every word.

  He took Ida’s hand in his as they went out the door. He didn’t look back.

  “He wanted to bring her home to the ranch,” Bart said when they reached her car. “I told him no.”

  She looked up at Bar
t. “The world moves on, but we don’t, do we?”

  He smiled. “I guess not. Cort isn’t like us. He’s more...well, more worldly.”

  “I guess cowboys do get around,” she replied. “We had one who had a girl in every rodeo town,” she chuckled.

  Cort was no cowboy, but Bart didn’t want to blow his cover. After all, Cort had come up here to get away from his life. Not that it seemed like it tonight. He was a rounder, and he’d scored at the first gathering he attended. Maybe he was used to doing things casually. Bart wasn’t.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she told Bart. “It was a nice party. I met a hunter who reads my books in the woods,” she added on a laugh.

  “I imagine it helps pass the time while he’s waiting for a nice, big buck,” he teased. “You drive carefully.”

  “I will. Thanks for seeing me home,” she added, trying not to picture Cort alone with that beautiful, clinging woman. It bothered her, and she didn’t know why. She didn’t want to be bothered by it.

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  She got into her car and drove away, with Bart right behind her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CORT HAD A nightcap with the merry divorcée, but he made no attempt at seduction once they were alone. He didn’t know why, which irritated him. Women were a permissible pleasure and he’d never refused the offer of a passionate night.

  This woman was overly seductive, but there was a coldness in the eyes above that sweet smile that made him hesitate. It was like looking into his own eyes. He had a fine contempt for most women. They were willing to do almost anything for the perks he could provide. He was jaded. She seemed very much the same.

  “I hear that you’ve divorced two husbands,” he said after a minute.

  She shrugged, sliding into a chair near his with a snifter of brandy in her hands. She’d already given him one. “Yes. The first was gay, but I didn’t know it. He wanted to look conventional for the sake of his corporate image. The second was a closet sadist who made me believe I was the most beloved woman on earth. I married him and came face-to-face with horror when he got me alone. He crippled me emotionally and physically. I ran from him and had him arrested for assault and battery, and then divorced him. There was almost a third...” She smiled sadly. She took a drink from the snifter. “He was a journalist who liked dangerous places and risk.” She looked down at her shoes. “He was kind and considerate and I think I could have loved him. But I couldn’t live with the terror, so I never let him get close. I was a coward.”