Evening Hours. Mary Baxter Lynn
“My ranch. Whenever I get the chance, I hightail it there and hole up. Takes the starch out every time.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me—the ranch, that is.”
“I betcha the boots were a dead giveaway.”
“You think so,” she said in a teasing tone.
Cutler laughed outright and then sobered, with the exception of the gleam in his eyes that was centered on her, and her pulse quickened even more. He was flirting with her, and she was flirting back. But how could she not? His magnetism could incite a riot in a nunnery.
“So how do you chill?”
“I don’t.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh?”
“You’re chilling now.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Wanna bet?”
Kaylee pursed her lips, which drew another laugh from him.
“Gotcha, right?”
She didn’t bother to respond, cautioning herself to pause and take note of the dangerous game she was playing. She had no intention of becoming a casualty of this man.
“Mind if I ask you something?”
“I have a feeling I should say no.”
“Feel free.”
She sighed openly. “What is it?”
“How long have you been like this?”
“And how is that?”
His eyes delved with laserlike intensity. “Crippled.” Ordinarily the use of that word flew all over her, even if it was the truth and even if she’d goaded him into saying it. But coming from him, said in such a nonchalant manner, it was not in the least offensive.
“Since I was sixteen.”
“That’s a hell of a long time.”
“That it is.”
“I’d like to know what happened, but if you don’t want to share—”
“Some other time, perhaps.”
“That’ll work.” He paused. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“Let’s go.”
Cutler paused again, his gaze locking with hers. The expression in his eyes made her feel hot and breathless and more than a little alarmed.
“Come on,” he said huskily.
She was about to get into the car when it happened. She misstepped, losing her balance.
Just as the pavement rose to meet her, Cutler cried, “I’ve got you, Kaylee!”
Ten
“Want me to come back later?”
Edgar had responded to Drew’s “Come on in” before he realized his boss wasn’t alone. Glen Yates, whom Edgar didn’t particularly like, occupied one of the plush chairs in front of Drew’s massive desk.
Pointing to the chair next to Glen’s, Drew said, “Take the load off. We need to know how the mill project is going, anyway.”
Edgar nodded at Glen before he made himself comfortable, propping one foot across his knee.
“You were saying.” Drew refocused on Glen.
“From what I’ve been able to gather, boss, the company hasn’t been dumping waste illegally.”
“Would you swear to that on the Bible?” Drew asked.
Glen was silent for a moment, pulling on one corner of his mustache. “Nope. I couldn’t go that far.”
Drew responded with a smile. “Then we’re good to go.”
“Meaning that if we contact the EPA and hint that dumping may be taking place, then the company’s goose is cooked.”
Drew’s smile ripened. “Just the mere hint of scandal, and the rest is history, as they say.”
“Their stock will plummet,” Edgar put in, “and you’ll get the mill for nothing.”
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