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Not that that improved his stock, Angelica thought grimly. If there was anything worse than a born-andbred cowboy, it was a phony who pretended to be one.
Oh, there’d been so many reasons it had given her pleasure to drop that lie on the bastard! Born of desperation, it had only been something to give him a night’s worth of bad dreams—until this morning, when she’d suddenly remembered something from that long-ago business law course.
Damn! Where was that book hiding?
Angelica got to her feet, brushed the dust from her hands and looked around the room. There were a couple of shelves of her father’s books on the wall over her desk. Could An Introduction to Business Law have ended up there? Maybe. There was a book way up at the top that looked vaguely familiar.
Angelica dragged her chair back and maneuvered it into position under the shelves. Her skirt—wool, gray and long—would be restrictive, and she quickly hiked it above her knees. She eyed the shelves one last time. Cobwebs, she thought with a little shudder, and she peeled off her gray tweed jacket and dropped it on the desk.
The chair swayed delicately when she stepped on it. She hesitated. Swivel chairs, especially old, unsteady ones, were not made for climbing, but if she were careful…
Angelica clutched the chair back, then straightened slowly and peered at the shelves. Yes, that was the book, all right, on the top shelf at the very end.
Gingerly, she reached toward it. Her sweater scooted up, baring her midriff. Her skirt did the same as it rode up her thighs, but she concentrated on the book, determinedly ignoring the ominous tilt of the chair.
Success! Her fingers closed around the thick volume. Angelica drew it to her and opened to the index.
“Contracts,” she murmured, her forefinger skimming the listing, “contracts, legal; contracts, verbal—”
She flipped to the page indicated, scanned it and began to smile.
Her early-morning revelation had been right on the mark! Two parties could, indeed, enter into a verbal commitment—a commitment that was as binding as any signed document.
Dust motes burst into the air like champagne bubbles as she slammed the book shut.
“Gotcha, Mr. Almighty Landon,” she whispered gleefully. Still smiling, she stretched to cram the book back on the shelf. “Oh, yes, I’ve got you by the—”
“What in hell do you think you’re doing?”
The voice—angry, male and completely unexpectedseemed to bounce off the walls. Angelica started, gave a muffled cry—and her feet and the chair parted company.
Strong, masculine arms closed about her, catching her as she fell. Heart thumping, she clasped a pair of hardmuscled shoulders encased in a wool suit jacket, inhaled a whiff of soap and angry male, and stared into Cade Landon’s icy blue eyes.
“Are you crazy?” he said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t need or expect an answer. “You don’t climb on swivel chairs, lady, you sit on them!”
“I—I needed to get something from that shelf. And-”
“And you did it the first damned fool way that came into your head!”
“Look, I would never have fallen if you hadn’t come barging in and—and—”
“You’re damned lucky I did. Otherwise, you’d probably have broken your fool neck!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the reason I—I—”
All at once, Angelica became painfully aware of how Cade was holding her. He’d caught her in his upstretched arms, which meant that she was looking down at him, that her breasts were almost on a level with his face and that her belly was pressed tightly against his muscular chest.
Something deep within her seemed to stretch feathery wings. She swallowed, then cleared her throat.
“Put me down, please,” she said.
“It surely doesn’t take two college degrees to know that human beings aren’t meant to scramble around like monkeys!”
“Did you hear me, Mr. Landon? Please put me down.”
Cade shifted Angelica’s weight in his arms. She was lighter than he’d have thought she’d be, and much softer. When he’d kissed her yesterday, there’d been too much woolly tweed between them. Now, thanks to her hikedup skirt and too-short sweater, he could feel cool inches of smooth, feminine skin.
“No wonder you can’t run this place,” he said, his tone growing harsher. “Why, you haven’t got the sense of a-”
“Don’t lecture me!”
“Somebody should have lectured you, lady, and they should have done it a long time ago.”
“Dammit,” Angelica said. She began to struggle to free herself from Cade’s unwanted embrace. “You are the most—”
The angry words caught in her throat. Her efforts to escape had somehow only made his arms close more tightly around her. Now they were pressed together like lovers—and every hard, heated inch of his well-muscled body suggested that he was unquestionably a more than proficient lover.
Color rose swiftly under Angelica’s skin and fanned out along the high arch of her cheekbones.
“Put me down!”
Cade’s eyes met hers. She could see amusement at her discomfort—and then something different, something that made her feel as if she were standing at the top of a long, spiraling staircase and peering down it into unending darkness.
He gave her a slow, taunting smile. “What’s the matter, sugar? Does it upset you to be reminded there are differences between men and women?”
Angelica’s color deepened. “No.”
He laughed softly. “No, it doesn’t bother you? Or no, there are no differences?”
“Mr. Landon, just because you imagine that women can’t hold their own in your world—”
“It’s not my imagination, sugar, it’s a fact,” he said pleasantly. His smile grew until it dimpled his cheek. “But that’s not exactly the kind of difference I was referring to.”
She swallowed dryly. “If you’re any sort of gentleman, Mr. Landon, you’ll put me down.”
Cade’s gaze dropped to Angelica’s mouth. It looked soft and faintly swollen, almost as if he’d just kissed her. What would she do if he did?
“Cade,” he said, his voice slightly thick.
“What?”
His eyes lifted to hers. “My name is Cade,” he said.
Angelica swallowed again. “Please put me downCade.”
He said nothing, and her heart gave a wild beat. What if he refused to let go? What if he lowered his head, brought his lips to hers, kissed her until she was, indeed, tumbling down that long, spiraling staircase?
But he didn’t. He simply dropped her the last couple of inches to the floor as if she was an unwanted package, folded his arms over his chest and glared at her.
“You might try saying thank you,” he said.
Angelica snatched up her jacket and thrust her arms into it. “Just think,” she said coldly, “I might have broken my neck.” She tugged down her skirt, smoothed her hair, then shoved her chair to the desk. “Think of how happy that would have made you!”
“You’re wrong, Miss Gordon.”
“Really?” Her smile was saccharine sweet. “I’m touched.”
“A broken neck would have landed you in the hospital, which would have meant increased insurance costs for Landon Enterprises.” His smile was as cloyingly sweet as hers. “Assuming you’ve been paying the premiums, of course.”
Angelica flushed. “Certainly, I’ve been paying the premiums,” she said, and made a mental note to check. “Now, what do you want?”
Cade laughed. He picked up the scarred chair that stood opposite the desk, spun it around
and straddled it.
“That’s easy. I want my company.”
Angelica sat down, folded her hands on the desk and gazed at him with bright-eyed interest.
“What company?” she said politely.
My, my, my, Cade thought, the lady was good at this. She’d been flustered as hell a few minutes ago, as out of her league at the mildest sort of male-female banter as a spinster at a bachelor party. But now that they were on more familiar ground, she was back in charge.
At least, she assumed she was. Easy, Cade told himself, just take it slow and easy.
“You know what I’m talking about,” he said. “Gordon Oil.”
“I thought we’d settled that yesterday.”
“Not quite.” He waited, giving it all the time he could. “I spoke with my attorney last evening.”
Angelica lifted a hand to her hair. A nervous gesture, Cade wondered, or was the habit of trying to subdue that coppery mane such an old one that she was unaware of it? It was uscless anyway; their little tussle had brought a halo of ringlets to bounce lightly at her temples.
His eyes narrowed. When he’d come through that door and spotted her balanced on that chair, his brain had told him it had to be Angelica Gordon—who else could it have been? But, in the split second he’d had to get to her before she fell, he’d found himself wondering.
Could Angelica Gordon have legs that went on forever? Could she have such a gently rounded bottom? Could she have breasts that looked as if they might just fill a man’s cupped palms?
The message he’d gotten once he’d had her in his arms was a definite yes.
Amazing, he thought, how different she looked sitting behind that desk in an outfit no woman who thought of herself as a woman would wear, looking as if she’d never given that little breathless shudder when she’d felt the hardness of his quickening body against hers.
“What are you thinking, Mr. Landon?”
Cade cleared his throat. “I don’t think you want to know, Miss Gordon.”
“You’re right, if it’s another diatribe about how you want me out of this office. You’ll be wasting your breath.”
