Mad About The Man by Stella Cameron

Author:Stella Cameron
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Food Industry, Small Town, Fashion Industry
Published: 1992-10-17T01:47:25+00:00

11

Jacques Ledan wasn't the type of man who forgave and forgot.

But since their encounters were likely to be of the briefest kind in future, there was almost zero chance that she'd ever know exactly how angry he might be at her rejection of him yesterday.

"Exclusive concession."

Gaby settled her rump more comfortably into the grassy dip she'd selected, drew up her knees and concentrated on staying mad at Mr. Ledan.

Arrogant SOB.

The good of Goldstrike was his mission and the reason for his being? He knew nothing about the town or the people who lived there. True, things had gotten tough, but the fix wouldn't be found in throwing away everything treasured and planting some hateful, plastic project in its place.

No one had ever kissed her as Jacques had.

They were beings from different planets, destined to disagree on anything and everything.

His every touch made her nerves stand up and beg for more.

A relationship built on the purely physical was doomed.

Hell, she wanted more of that kind of doom!

Clouds moved slowly, heavily, parting almost rhythmically to allow the sun's escape in brilliant shafts that warmed Gaby's back through her checked cotton shirt. Blinding white fog, subtly shaded with blue gray, filled the valley below Losers' Ridge the way a fickle burden of dry ice vapor might nuzzle a giant punch bowl. Gaby wrapped her arms around her legs. No one who hadn't seen this would believe that a northern California valley could look like a soft, visibly shifting glacier.

Vi, the docile old roan Gaby borrowed from time to time, whinnied softly. "Steady, girl," Gaby called without turning around. Vi belonged to one of the women who sometimes helped in the workroom.

The roan snorted, and rocks skittered from beneath her hoofs. "What's with you, Vi?"

Gaby looked over her shoulder directly into a shaft of sunshine. She squinted, and drew in a quick breath.

"Who—?" She bit off the question. The identity of the man astride a silver Arabian wasn't in doubt. Shading her eyes, Gaby watched Jacques.

And, silently, he watched her.

The Arabian was magnificent: big, slender and one hundred percent unpredictable power.

So was the man.

Flipping the reins, Jacques shifted in the saddle and walked his mount a few steps downhill.

Still he didn't speak.

The sun faded and she dropped her hand. He wore a denim shirt—mostly open—and faded jeans that strained over long, strongly muscled legs. His brown boots were scuffed, his hair mussed… and his eyes were pure, dark blue ice.

"Hi." She swallowed and drew in her bottom lip.

The horse danced a little closer.

Jacques didn't smile, didn't respond. He hunched his wide shoulders and rested a wrist on the horn. Wind flirted with the animal's mane and flattened the man's shirt to his chest. Beneath the shirt, dark hair curled over tanned skin. She'd known he was a big man. But he'd never looked this big… or this angry.

Gaby felt her own temper thin. "Hello, Jacques. Off your beaten track, aren't you?"

He twitched the rein and, with the slightest pressure from his knees, urged the Arabian on.

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