appear composed and nonplussed. The day was bright and sunny, with very little breeze. Starting out that morning, Cass had asked Gard what he wanted to see first. He had named the springs and creeks, which would have made very good sense if he’d been a stranger and unfamiliar with the valley’s water sources.
Nevertheless, they rode to each of the ranch’s three springs, where Gard dismounted, walked around and checked every little thing, such as the drainage runoff, the depth and temperature of the water, and the foliage around it. He was putting on some kind of show, Cass felt, irritated by his ridiculous attentiveness to details that were perfectly obvious to anyone with a lick of ranching sense.
They then followed each of the two creeks from one end of Whitfield land to the other. Anytime they came close to the cattle, Gard gave the animals a long look and, periodically, he dismounted to inspect the grass, actually breaking off handfuls and in several instances, tasting it.
Around noon Cass mentioned the sandwiches she had made that morning, having known instinctively that Gard was going to keep her out on the range past lunchtime. Which, of course, was merely another irritating aspect of the game he was playing and she was putting up with to get this ludicrous charade over and done with.
“You packed a lunch?” Gard looked pleased.
“Nothing fancy. Just some sandwiches.” They were wrapped in aluminum foil and residing in her saddlebag, and by now they were probably overheated and soggy. Still, she was hungry and even a soggy sandwich would taste good.
Gard pointed ahead to a copse of trees and brush. “Let’s get out of the sun to eat.”
“Fine.” Actually, getting out of the saddle was reaching the necessary stage for Cass. Four hours of riding was a mite more than she was used to, and she was feeling the long ride in her thighs and back.
They reached the trees and got down. Cass wanted to moan with relief, but managed to stifle the impulse. Gard, she noted, didn’t seem to be the least bit tired.
She opened her saddlebag and removed the sandwiches, placing them on a grassy spot along with her canteen of water.
Gard sat down with his back against a tree near the wrapped sandwiches. He smiled at her and she did her best to smile back.
“It isn’t much, but dig in,” she told him, lowering herself to the grass.
They each took a sandwich and began eating. Gard removed his hat and laid it on the grass next to him. “Nice out here. Thanks for thinking of bringing along lunch.”
“Such as it is, but you’re welcome.” Cass swallowed a bite. “Have you seen enough to make that decision?”
“Well...I’ve been thinking of that high ridge at the western perimeter of your land, Cassandra. You must remember the spot. Anyway, we had an extremely heavy runoff this spring—about twenty feet of snow in the mountains last winter—and I’ve been wondering how it affected that ridge. It was always a natural boundary between Whitfield land and forest service property, as I recall.”
Cass stared at him. “Even if the ridge was entirely wiped out, what possible difference could it make to your decision?”
“We could be talking about some major environmental damage, Cassandra.”
She spoke sarcastically. “I’m sure Dad would have told me if melting snow had washed away a ridge of land that was at least forty feet higher than the valley floor, Gard.”
Gard shoved the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth. “Did you and your dad talk very often?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we did. Look—”
“Didn’t it bother him that you preferred Oregon over Montana?”
“Of course it didn’t bother him. Why should it? Listen—”
“Tell me about your home. Do you live near the coast?”
Internally Cass was seething. He kept interrupting her, deliberately avoiding conversation about that option.
“I live on the coast. My house is on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Gard—”
“That sounds terrific. Bet you have a great view.”
Her patience came to an abrupt end. “You are without a doubt the most irritating person I have ever known.” Scrambling to her feet, she bent over to pick up the foil wrappers from the sandwiches. “You’ve ridden me around in circles all morning, and now you want to ride for another two hours to see a ridge that couldn’t possibly be washed away from spring runoff, no matter how much damned snow piled up in the mountains during the winter.”
“Now you’re mad.” Gard spoke in a hurt, disbelieving voice, as though she were the most unfair woman on the face of the earth. Or in Montana, at least.
Cass faced him, all but breathing fire. “If I were a man, I’d punch you right in the nose!” Then she whirled to go to her horse and get away from this infuriating person. She was all through being nice to him, option or no option.
Gard, still sitting, caught her by the ankles. Down she came, landing mostly on top of him. “You...” The names she shrieked at him were very unladylike and quite descriptive. “Let me go, you snake in the grass, you weasel, you...” Again the unladylike names rolled out of her mouth.
Neatly and with a minimum of exertion, Gard rolled them over so that he was on top. “You sure do have a mouth on you, Sassy Whitfield. I think it’s time someone taught you better manners.”
“And you think you’re the man to do it?” Cass let out a screech so loud and piercing, Gard thought it probably echoed throughout the entire valley. But she didn’t only screech, she started fighting to get away.
And the wrestling match began.
Three
Cass squirmed and pushed and shoved. “You cretin!” She was wiry and quick, but so was Gard, and his strength was so superior he soon had her hands locked above her head while the weight of his body held her down.
What really infuriated her was that he thought rolling around on the ground like this was funny. Throughout their tussle she’d heard the low, sexy chuckle deep in his throat, and when she was finally unable to move anything but her toes, he grinned at her.
“You savage,” she said, venting her wrath through clenched teeth. “Force is probably the only way you can get a woman on her back.” He laughed as though she had said something hysterically funny. “Egotistical jerk.” Cassandra turned her eyes to avoid his. No one she’d ever known had eyes as blue as Gard’s. Right now they were brimming with amusement and she didn’t want to see it.
He dipped his head slightly, bringing their faces closer. “There are three things I’d like to do to you, Sassy Whitfield,” he whispered. “Want to know what they are?”
“I most certainly do not!”
“Make that four, and I don’t believe you don’t want to know. In fact, I think you’re dying to know, so I’m going to be kind and tell you. First, I’d like to turn you over my knee and paddle your sweet little behind. I think you’ve had it all your way for so long, you don’t know how to deal with a man who doesn’t jump at your command.”
Cass’s gaze jerked around. “Of all the... Just try it, and I’ll scratch the eyes right out of your arrogant head!”
Gard laughed softly. “Second, I’d like to kiss you until you’re limp all over and begging for more.”
“Hell will freeze over before I ever beg you for anything,” she sputtered.
“Third, once you’re begging and whimpering, I’d like to make love to you. The right kind of love, Sassy, sensual and slow.”
She had no cutting retort for that one. Being held down like this was