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Years ago, with Cawthorne standing in the rain, looming over him, offering him a deal for getting out of Bliss’s life, Mason had been blinded by pain and had silently sworn he’d get even one day. Now the day was at hand, but the sweet taste of revenge eluded him.
He glanced at his watch. Not quite five, and he’d had a hell of a day even without John Cawthorne’s verbal attack. Five cattle—three cows and two calves—had died of black leg on his ranch in Montana. The rest of the herd was quarantined, but there would still be losses—too many of them.
A foreman at the same ranch had fallen from the haymow, cracked three ribs and broken his ankle, and some neighboring rancher was screaming bloody murder about water rights. The neighbor had hired himself a local lawyer who had taken the case with a vengeance and was now threatening a lawsuit.
Then there was the matter of Patty. What had happened to her? It was strange that she’d quit calling him about the same time Isaac Wells had disappeared.
But John Cawthorne’s phone call was the one that bothered him the most. Because of Bliss. Mason couldn’t shake her out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. He’d always prided himself on being able to put each portion of his life into perspective, to give appropriate attention to the most pressing problems while letting others simmer until he was ready to deal with them, but Bliss dominated any other thoughts. Where she was concerned, he was beyond a fool.
“Get a grip,” he growled as he squared a hat upon his head. He grabbed his jacket from a hook on the brass hall tree and decided to call it a day. It was after six and he needed a drink. A stiff one. Maybe even a double.
He yanked open the door and there she was. Bliss Cawthorne in the flesh. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes troubled.
“I tried to stop her,” Edie, his receptionist-secretary, apologized helplessly, as if there was no way she could deter the intruder. Edie’s earphones were still in place, the cord to her transcriber dangling from the headset.
“It’ll just take a minute,” Bliss said.
Mason doubted it A minute? No way. An hour? He didn’t think so. Whatever was weighing heavily enough on Bliss’s mind to prod her down here looking for him, it would take a long time to hash out. “It’s all right, Edie.”
“But—” the secretary stammered, her feathers obviously ruffled.
“I’ll handle it,” Mason assured her as she glanced at her watch. “You can go on home. Just lock the door and have the answering service pick up.”
“Are you sure? It’s just that I have to pick up Toby.”
“I know.” He held the door to his office open and Bliss, looking suddenly as if she regretted whatever impulse it was that had driven her here, stepped inside. A cloud of her perfume trailed after her, but Mason refused to be affected by anything remotely feminine, even a scent that reminded him of long-ago years.
He closed the door softly and she nearly jumped.
“What’s going on, Bliss?” he asked.
“I—I came down here because of Dad.”
“You’re sure about that?” He couldn’t hide the skepticism in his words.
“Of course.” She cleared her throat and her spine visibly stiffened as she impaled him with those incredible blue eyes. “I want you to back off, Mason.”
“Back off?”
“Yeah, with Dad and his ranch. Surely there’s another parcel you could buy.” She tossed her hair over her shoulders. “Dad doesn’t need this now—all this pressure. He’s already had one heart attack and he doesn’t need another.
“He and Brynnie are at each other’s throats because of this mess. Because of you.”
He propped himself on the corner of his desk an
d folded his arms over his chest. There was more to this than money and land; he could see it in her eyes and the set of her chin.
“I told you before, Brynnie wanted to sell,” he reminded her.
“That was Dad’s land.”
“Which he had already deeded over to her.”
Bliss took a step forward, placing herself directly in front of him, and nailed him with a look that caused an uneven thumping in his chest. “You know, Mason, for years I’ve stuck up for you whenever Dad tried to pin that horseback-riding accident on you.”
“Did you convince him?” he asked drily.
“Never. But he knew what I thought.”
