Diana Palmer - Champagne Girl

Matt bothered her. He puzzled her. He was a cutup, a wild man—except when he was being Mr. Kincaid. She’d seen him do that. She’d watched him put down men who thought they could walk all over him because he seemed easygoing. There was a white-hot temper and a will like iron underneath his good humor.

Worrying about things wasn’t going to help, she told herself. She’d do better to concentrate on how to promote the cattle sale. It was her only chance of escape from her family. And from Matt. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life waiting for him. She couldn’t live near him and watch him marry someone else—and he would eventually. The corporation would have to have an heir, and he was in control. Probably it would be some sophisticated socialite with holdings of her own. A merger more than a marriage.

She leaned forward over the little mare’s mane and gave her her head as they went toward the barn.

Jerry and Barrie were at supper that night. Jerry, like Hal and Matt, had dark eyes, but he alone of the three had sandy-blond hair and a receding hairline. He was taller than Hal, but not as tall as Matt. Barrie was redheaded and blue eyed and very petite and mischievous. Catherine had always adored her.

As Annie waddled in with the salads, Catherine allowed Hal to seat her, and she noted his thoughtful glances. Matt hadn’t made an appearance yet, and Catherine found herself watching the doorway, waiting. She knew he was going out, that he wouldn’t be joining them for the evening meal, but she couldn’t help watching for him. Habits were hard to break. She looked down at her blue shirtwaist dress and imagined I Adore Matt written all over it with a felt-tip marker. That was vaguely amusing and she laughed.

“That’s better,” Hal murmured. “You were looking solemn, little cousin.”

“Who, me?” She gaped. “I’m never solemn.”

“I know,” he returned.

“Betty said you were trying to go to New York to work,” Jerry said, glancing at her. He smiled absently. “I knew you’d only come to grief.”

“How?”

“I know my brother. Matt keeps you on a short leash, doesn’t he?”

Catherine glared at him. “I can do what I please. As it happens,” she said to save face, “Matt’s offered me a job. I’m organizing the foundation sale.”

“Darling, how lovely!” Barrie exclaimed. “You’ll do a grand job.”

“You and your cattle hang-up,” Jerry growled at her. “I can see you now, leading that prize bull of yours around, with the baby under one arm—when you ever decide to have a baby.”

“Don’t be silly, my love,” Barrie murmured, peering up at him. “I’ll have the baby in one of those carry things they wear these days. He’ll learn the business from the ground up.” She elbowed her husband. “Anyway, what do you mean, ‘when I decide to have a baby’? How can I? You’re never at home. It takes two,” she added with a poisonous smile.

Jerry cleared his throat and offered Betty the rolls.

Catherine and Hal exchanged amused glances just as Matt walked in. It was obvious he’d changed for his date, because he was wearing a dark dinner jacket with a red tie. He looked so devastating that Catherine had to drop her eyes.

“Hal, I’d like a word with you,” he said without preamble.

Hal looked uncomfortable and made a face, but he got up and went with his stern older brother out into the hall. The door closed and everyone exchanged puzzled glances.

“He didn’t move those cattle like Matt told him,” Barrie volunteered with a grimace. “At least four of them drowned.”

So that was what Matt had been doing on the flats, Catherine thought suddenly, amazed that she hadn’t connected the mired cattle with Hal’s disobedience. Poor old Hal, she thought. Matt would eat him alive.

“Will he ever grow up?” Jerry grumbled. “He plays at life.”

“He’s very young, dear,” Betty intervened.

Catherine was just about to rush to his defense, too, just as a loud voice broke the silence in the hall, followed by a thump and a hard thud. Catherine jumped to her feet and opened the door to find Hal just picking himself up from the floor. Matt was standing over him, unruffled, his face like stone, his eyes blazing with anger. He glanced at Catherine, and he was a stranger again, all authority and bristling masculinity. He laughed curtly.

“Florence Nightingale to the rescue,” he chided. “Pick him up and pet him, if you like, but do it damned fast. He’s leaving for Houston. And if he doesn’t straighten out his priorities while he’s there,” he added with a cold glare at Hal, who was gingerly touching his jaw, “he can damned well stay in Houston.”

“My God, it was only four head—” Hal began.

“One head would have been one too many,” Matt replied.

“Jerry and I have a stake in the corporation, too,” Hal shot back. “You’re not the whole show!”

“I am until you can carry your share of the load,” Matt returned. “Grow up!”

Hal got to his feet and glared at the taller man. “The iron man, aren’t you?” He laughed mirthlessly. “No chinks in your armor, no human weaknesses. Not even a weakness for a special woman.”

“You’d better phone and see if you can get a flight out of here tonight,” Matt said, ignoring the little speech.

Hal inclined his head. “Whatever you say, boss.” He fingered his jaw and glanced ruefully at Catherine. “Be sure to duck, cousin.”

Catherine watched him turn toward the stairs. She started back toward the dining room, but Matt caught her arm.

The light touch was indescribable. He came up behind her and was so close that she could hear his heavy breath as it sighed out over her hair. His fingers were steely through the soft jersey of her dress sleeve, and she couldn’t seem to get her breath.

Someone had closed the door to the dining room after she’d gone through it. Probably Jerry, she thought dazedly; he wasn’t one to eavesdrop.

“Afraid of me?” he asked at her back.

She turned and looked up at him with soft green eyes.

“No. Not really. It’s just that you seem like a stranger sometimes, Matt.”

“Hal has to learn responsibility,” he said.

“I won’t argue that,” she replied. “But he won’t ever be you.”

He sighed half-angrily. His dark eyes searched hers in the sudden stillness of the hall.

“Don’t you have a date to rush off to?” she asked pointedly.

“I have a social engagement,” he replied. He pulled out a gold cigarette case—the one she’d given him for Christmas last year—and casually lit a cigarette, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Same difference,” she said.

He shook his head, then lifted the cigarette to his smiling mouth. “It’s a formal dinner. And women weren’t included, except for the wives of the organizers.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Matt.” She started toward the dining room, but he drew her back with the lightest pressure of his fingers.

“No, I don’t,” he agreed. She stared at his red tie.

His fingers moved to her throat and stroked its soft elegant line, and her mouth trembled. She looked up at him with her breath sticking in her throat.

“Don’t,” she pleaded breathlessly. It was the first time he’d ever touched her like that, and it frightened her. All her wild dreams went into hiding at the reality. The uncontrolled pleasure she felt was unexpected.

“Why not?” he murmured. “Bachelors are entitled to play a little, honey,” he said with a slow smile, and his fingers stroked over a larger area, edging under the neck of her dress and onto her shoulder.

“Not with me, you don’t,” she said. She reached up to catch his fingers. “It’s not fair, Matt. Shooting fish in a barrel.”