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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.
