Murdock's Last Stand. Beverly Barton

at eight.”

      “What does the word alta mean?” she asked.

      “Tall.”

      “Oh.”

      The corners of Murdock’s mouth quivered, but he didn’t smile. “Hugo said that you were very beautiful and very tall.”

      “What else did he say that you both thought so funny? And why did you refer to me as your woman?” Catherine stuck out her chin and squared her shoulders.

      Murdock wondered if she knew how much a defiant woman tempted a man to try to control her. Probably not.

      “Dammit, you can ask more unnecessary questions that any woman I’ve ever known!”

      “And you’re the most secretive man I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting!”

      Murdock removed his sport coat and tossed it on the sofa. “Get used to my referring to you as mi mujer, because for the duration of this mission, that’s what you’ll be—my woman!”

      “Now, wait just one minute. If you think—”

      “I think, but you don’t. You jump to conclusions.”

      Steam rose inside her, fueled by pure anger. She was doing it again—allowing Murdock to enrage her and make her feel foolish. “Excuse me. Why don’t you explain the situation, if I’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

      “Despite how very beautiful and desirable you are, the only brand I’m putting on you is a verbal brand. Jose and a few people in Zaraza know what our real mission is, know why we’re here in Lima and why we’re going to Zaraza. The simplest way to explain our being together and also to announce that you’re under my protection is for me to say you’re my woman. Understand?”

      “I think so.” Okay, so once again she’d been wrong in assuming Murdock was just being an arrogant jackass.

      “If that’s settled, then why don’t you—”

      “What were you and Hugo laughing about?”

      “Good God, woman! Do you have to know everything?”

      “Humor me.”

      Murdock raked his cupped hand across the faint stubble on his lower jaw. “Hugo made a comment about your long legs wrapping around me when I screwed you.”

      Catherine gasped loudly.

      “You asked. So I told you. Don’t go getting outraged and giving me hell for telling you what you demanded to know.”

      “Are all your friends that crude?”

      “Men are that crude, honey.”

      “All men aren’t.”

      “Oh, just men like me and my friends and your father, huh?”

      “My husband would never have made an inappropriate remark about a woman, especially not in her presence.”

      “Well, bully for your husband,” Murdock said. “But in Hugo’s defense, he didn’t realize you knew any Spanish. And he assumed you and I were lovers.”

      “Which we are not!”

      “Which we most definitely are not!”

      They stood there face-to-face, staring each other down, like two Old West gunfighters preparing for a high-noon showdown. Catherine’s chest rose and fell dramatically with each labored breath she took. Everyone who knew her, knew Catherine had a temper. But as a general rule it took a great deal of aggravation to rile her. She had learned over the years to control all her emotions, and seldom allowed anyone or anything to irritate her to the extent Murdock did.

      The pulse in Murdock’s neck swelled and throbbed. She could tell that he was as upset as she and trying just as hard not to explode. Usually, she was the person others feared, the one in charge, the one who had the power to make underlings shake in their boots. She certainly wasn’t accustomed to having some big, overbearing man running roughshod over her and making all the decisions.

      “You bring out the very worst in me,” she told him. “And I don’t like it. However, there’s not much I can do about it, but endure your presence until we have my father safely out of Zaraza. Then I hope I never see you again as long as I live.”

      “Believe me, nothing would suit me better. Your attitude isn’t conducive to winning friends and influencing people. And there’s no place in my world for uptight, snobby, prudish women who are out to emasculate every man they meet.”

      “Conducive. My, my. What a big word for such a small mind.” Catherine flashed her adversary a wide, eat-dirt-and-die smile. “And if my aim was to emasculate men in general, I wouldn’t waste my time on you. But, I must admit, the thought of dropping a stick of dynamite into your pants and blowing your…your masculinity to smithereens, gives me immense pleasure.”

      “Ouch, Cat, your claws are not only showing again, they’re scratching me.” His smile matched hers in sheer brilliance and outmatched hers in pure devilry. “And if you want to drop something into my pants, I have a much better idea.”

      Gritting her teeth and huffing, Catherine closed her eyes to shut out the blazing red glare that blinded her. The man was insufferable! Was her father really anything like Murdock? If so, how could her sweet, genteel mother have endured being married to the oaf?

      “In your dreams,” she said, under her breath, then opened her eyes and gasped when she realized that he had silently crossed the room and stood within an arm’s length of her.

      “Don’t you know that the more you fight a man, the more determined he’ll be to conquer you? And, Cat, honey, you have a knack for verbal sparring that can really turn a man on.”

      That was it! She’d had it with this big, smart-mouthed wise guy! With her hands balled into tight fists, she took that one step that separated them, then lifted her gaze to make direct eye-to-eye contact. That’s when she realized she’d made a mistake. A huge mistake. Murdock was looking at her as if she were the last drop of water in a sweltering, dry desert.

      “What the hell,” he said as he reached out and jerked her into his arms. “We might as well get this over with.”