Man Of Ice

His eyes met hers. They were relentless, intent.

“Let me go!” she raged.

His fingers only tightened. He made her feel like a hysterical idiot with that long, hard stare, but she couldn’t stop struggling.

He ended the unequal struggle by tugging slightly and she landed back on the steps with a faint thump. “Stop it,” he said firmly.

Her eyes flashed at him, her cheeks flushed.

He let go of her arm all at once. “At least you look alive again,” he remarked curtly. “And back to normal pretending to hate me.”

“I’m not pretending. I do hate you, Dawson,” she said, as if she was programmed to fight him, to deny any hint of caring in her voice.

“Then it shouldn’t affect you all that much to come home with me.”

“I won’t run interference for you with the widow. If you want that land so badly…”

“I can’t buy it if she won’t sell it,” he reminded her. “And she won’t sell it unless I entertain her.”

“It’s a low thing to do, to get a few acres of land.”

“Land with the only water on the Bighorn property,” he reminded her. “I had free access when her husband was alive. Now I buy the land or Powell Long will buy it and fence it off from my cattle. He hates me.”

“I know how he feels,” she said pointedly.

“Do you know what she’ll do if you’re not there?” he continued. “She’ll try to seduce me, sure as hell. She thinks no man can resist her. When I refuse her, she’ll take her land straight to Powell Long and make him a deal he can’t refuse. Your friendship with Antonia won’t stop him from fencing off that river, Barrie. Without water, we’ll lose the property and all the cattle on it. I’ll have to sell at a loss. Part of that particular ranch is your inheritance. You stand to lose even more than I do.”

“She wouldn’t,” she began.

“Don’t kid yourself,” he drawled. “She’s attracted to me. Or don’t you remember how that feels?” he added with deliberate sarcasm.

She flushed, but she glared at him. “I’m on vacation.”

“So what?”

“I don’t like Sheridan, I don’t like you, and I don’t want to spend my vacation with you!”

“Then don’t.”

She hit the banister helplessly. “Why should I care if I lose my inheritance? I’ve got a good job!”

“Why, indeed?”

But she was weakening. Her part-time job had fallen through. She was looking at having to do some uncomfortable budgeting, despite the good salary she made. It only stretched so far. Besides, she could imagine what a woman like Mrs. Holton would do to get her claws into Dawson. The widow could compromise him, if she didn’t do anything else. She could make up some lurid tale about him if he didn’t give out…and there was plenty of gossip already, about Dawson’s lack of interest in women. It didn’t bear thinking about, what that sort of gossip would do to Dawson’s pride. He’d suffered enough through the gossip about his poor father and Antonia Long, when there wasn’t one shred of truth to it. And in his younger days, his success with women was painfully obvious to a worshiping Barrie.

“For a few days, you said,” she began.

His eyebrows lifted. “You aren’t changing your mind!” he exclaimed with mock surprise.

“I’ll think about it,” she continued firmly.

He shrugged. “We should be able to live under the same roof for that long without it coming to bloodshed.”

“I don’t know about that.” She leaned against the banister. “And if I decide to go—which I haven’t yet—when she leaves, I leave, whether or not you’ve got your tract of land.”

He smiled faintly. There was something oddly calculating in his eyes. “Afraid to stay with me, alone?”

She didn’t have to answer him. Her eyes spoke for her.

“You don’t know how flattering that reluctance is these days,” he said, searching her eyes. “All the same, it’s misplaced. I don’t want you, Barrie,” he added with a mocking smile.

“You did, once,” she reminded him angrily.

He nodded. His hands went into his pockets and his broad shoulders shifted. “It was a long time ago,” he said stiffly. “I have other interests now. So do you. All I want is for you to run interference for me until I can get my hands on that property. Which is to your benefit, as well,” he added pointedly. “You inherited half the Bighorn property when George died. If we lose the water rights, the land is worthless. That means you inherit nothing. You’ll have to depend on your job until you retire.”

She knew that. The dividend she received from her share of cattle on the Bighorn ranch helped pay the bills.

“Oh, there you are, Dawson, dear!” a honied voice drawled behind him. “I’ve been looking just everywhere for you!” A slinky brunette, a good few years younger than Barrie, with a smile the size of a dinner plate latched onto Dawson’s big arm and pressed her ample, pretty chest against it. “I’d just love to dance with you!” she gushed, her eyes flirting outrageously with his.

Dawson went rigid. If Barrie hadn’t seen it for herself, she wouldn’t have believed it. With a face that might have been carved from stone, he released himself from the woman’s grasp and moved pointedly back from her.

“Excuse me. I’m talking to my stepsister,” he said curtly.

The woman was shocked at being snubbed. She was beautiful and quite obviously used to trapping men with that coquettish manner, and the handsomest man here looked at her as if she smelled bad.

She laughed a little nervously. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Later, perhaps, then?”

She turned and went quickly back into the living room.

Barrie was standing where she’d been throughout the terse exchange, leaning against the banister. Now she moved away from it and down the steps to stand just in front of Dawson. Her green eyes searched his quietly.

His jaw clenched. “I told you. I’m not in the market for a woman—not you or anyone else.”

Her teeth settled into her lower lip, an old habit that he’d once chided her about.

He apparently hadn’t forgotten. His forefinger tapped sharply at her upper lip. “Stop that. You’ll draw blood,” he accused.

She released the stinging flesh. “I didn’t realize,” she murmured. She sighed as she searched his hard face. “You loved women, in the old days,” she said with more bitterness than she knew. “They followed you around like bees on a honey trail.”

His face was hard. “I lost my taste for them.”

“But, why?”

“You don’t have the right to invade my privacy,” he said curtly.

She smiled sadly. “I never did. You were always so mysterious, so private. You never shared anything with me when I was younger. You were always impatient to get away from me.”

“Except once,” he replied shortly. “And see where that got us.”