Cattleman's Choice

“So what?” she returned, her whole stance belligerent. “I’ve never gone shopping with a man before. And do you have socks?”

“I guess I’d better go back, hadn’t I?” He put the parcels in the car. Then he opened the passenger door and helped Mandelyn inside.

“Will you be all right here until I get back?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said.

“Won’t be a minute.”

She watched him walk away, and smiled. Transforming him was getting to be fun, even if it did have its difficult moments.

Her eyes went over the interior of the car. It was spotless, and she guessed that he’d had the boys give it a cleaning for him, because it had never looked so clean. Her hand reached out to touch the silver arrowhead he had suspended from the rear-view mirror and she frowned slightly as she realized what it was attached to. It was a blue velvet ribbon, one she remembered having lost. She’d worn it around her hair in a ponytail one day years ago when Carson had come to see Uncle Dan. She remembered Carson tugging the ponytail, but she hadn’t looked back, and later she’d missed the ribbon. It was odd, that a man as unsentimental as Carson would keep such a thing. Perhaps he liked the color, she thought, and turned her eyes back toward the store. It was hot, and there was no shade nearby. She fanned herself with her hand.

Minutes later, he came back, tossed his parcels into the trunk and climbed in beside her.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said suddenly, studying her flushed, perspiring skin. “I didn’t expect to be so long. There was a crowd.”

She smiled. “I’m okay.”

He studied her eyes for a long moment, and his face seemed to go rigid. “Oh, God, you’re something,” he said under his breath.

The passion in his soft words stirred something deep inside her. She stared back at him and couldn’t drag her eyes away. It was a moment out of time. Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his hard mouth.

“Don’t,” he laughed roughly, turning back to twist the ignition key savagely. “Keep those curious glances to yourself, unless you want me to kiss you again.”

He’d shocked her, and her face showed it. She wondered if he wanted her. Then she remembered Patty and went cold. Her eyes gazed out the window. If he had any emotion in him at all, it would naturally be for Patty. Wasn’t the object of this whole crusade to make him into a man Patty would want? She crossed her long legs with a sigh and stared out over the city.

“Hungry?” he asked after a minute.

“I could eat a salad,” she agreed.

“Rabbit food,” he shot back. “You can get that any day.”

Her eyebrows arched. “That sounds like you’re taking me someplace special,” she said, glancing at him with a grin. “Are you?”

“Do you like crepes?” he asked.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes!”

He smiled faintly. “A cattleman I know told me about a place. We’ll give it a try.”

It turned out to be a hotel restaurant, a very classy one. Mandelyn had definite misgivings about how this was going to turn out, but she’d never be able to teach Carson any manners without going into places like this. So she crossed her fingers and followed him in.

“Do you have a reservation, monsieur?” the maître d’ asked with casual politeness, his shrewd eyes going over Carson’s worn jacket and polyester trousers. “We are very crowded today.”

There were empty tables, Mandelyn could see them, and she knew what was going on. She touched Carson’s arm and whispered, “Give him a tip.”

“A tip?” Carson growled, glaring down at the shorter man with eyes that threatened to fry him to a crisp. “A tip, hell! I want a table. And I’d better get one fast, sonny, or you and your phony French accent are going right out that front door together.” He grinned as he said it, and Mandelyn hid her face in her hands.

“A table for two, monsieur?” the maître d’ said with a shaky smile and a quick wave of his hand. “Mais oui! Just follow me, s’il vous plait!”

“Tip him, hell,” Carson scoffed. “You just have to know the right words to say.”

She didn’t answer. All around the exclusive dining room, people were staring at them. She tried to follow some distance behind him; maybe she could look as if she were alone.

“Don’t hang back there, for God’s sake, I’ll lose you,” Carson said, gripping her arm to half drag her to the table the maître d’ was indicating. “Here. Sit down.”

He plopped her into a chair and jerked out one for himself, “How about a menu?”

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