“Oh, no, you don’t. The land maybe, but not the house. I never lease the house. Judge Longstreet wouldn’t do that without telling—” Sidonie. stopped.
She hadn’t actually read the last lease the judge had sent her, but the cover letter had mentioned something about new terms. “Uh-oh. We may have a problem.” She reached down and rubbed her knee. “Would you mind getting my knee brace out of the pickup?”
He started for the door.
“My suitcase, too, please and thank you.”
He paused and looked over his shoulder, frowning. “You won’t be needing that. You’re not staying.” He turned away and walked out the door.
“My pain medicine is in the suitcase,” she called after him.
While she waited for his return, Sidonie shrugged out of her black leather trench coat. She was wearing a pale pink angora sweater with cherry red skorts and pink leg warmers. Sidonie loved pink and red, and she didn’t care a fig what the world thought about redheads who wore clashing colors.
And she didn’t care what McMasters said about a lease. She was staying in her house. If anyone was leaving, he was. She’d evict him. Judge Longstreet would tell her how to go about it. Satisfied that it was only a matter of time before she had her house to herself, Sidonie stood up. She was bent at the waist, touching her toes, when McMasters returned, carrying her brace in one hand and her battered suitcase in the other.
She straightened up and reached for the ceiling, stretching first her left, then her right side. When McMasters caught sight of her, he stopped in his tracks and gaped. Sidonie sighed. She often had that effect on men. She attributed it to her spectacular body and her flame red hair. Males, she had learned, were often impressed by such superficialities.
While he stood staring at her with his mouth open, she looked him over, but more discreetly. She, having a dancer’s appreciation for a beautiful body, could admire his tall, rangy frame without ogling. His face wasn’t bad, either—if a square jaw, bold cheekbones and a sensuous mouth appealed.
She took her suitcase from him, being careful to avoid touching him. She was almost sure it hadn’t been his touch that had caused her pulse to race, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Not while she was tired and coping with her bewildering feelings of homecoming.
McMasters closed his mouth, narrowed his eyes and gave her another look she recognized. Pure, unadulterated desire. Tiny chills skittered down her spine, and she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. If he was exhibiting the signs of instant lust, maybe what she was feeling was the same thing. Several seconds ticked by as they looked at each other.
With an effort, Sidonie tore her gaze from his hypnotic stare and set the suitcase down and opened it. She couldn’t want a man she’d just met. She didn’t have time for lust, if that truly was what she was feeling. Rummaging through the case, she located her bottie of pain pills. She held it up with a triumphant grin. “Thanks, I needed this.”
“Do you want a glass of water?” he asked, frowning at her.
Maybe she’d misread him, too. At second glance, he looked more aggravated than attracted. “That would be nice.”
He left the room and returned in a few minutes with the water. As he handed it to her, he glanced at the open suitcase at her feet.
“Is this all you brought with you?”
“Yes.” That was all she owned, besides her temporary investment in the pickup. Sidonie prided herself on being able to carry all her worldly possessions in one suitcase.
“Good. You’re not planning on a long stay.”
“Just long enough for my knee to heal. A few weeks, a couple of months at most.”
“You won’t have any trouble finding a room to rent somewhere. For the rest of tonight, you can go to the motel over on Highway 283.” He came closer and handed her the molded plastic brace. “Close the gate on your way out.”
“I closed the gate on my way in. Why is there a gate? The road doesn’t go anywhere but here.”
“Now it goes to my place, too, and I put up the gate so the road wouldn’t become public property. I like my privacy. So feel free to leave, the sooner the better.”
Sidonie fitted the brace on her leg and fastened the Velcro straps. “I’m staying in my house. In my room,” she said firmly. “That’s not negotiable.”
He crossed his arms, calling Sidonie’s attention to his broad chest. “Everything’s negotiable, Miss Saddler,” he drawled. “But I can tell you right now, you’re not staying here.”
“Why not?”
McMasters clenched his square jaw. “I have a lease.”
“So you say,” Sidonie rejoined coolly. “May I see it?” She could tell that request knocked him off balance. Sidonie smiled seductively, intending to keep him that way.
He shook his head. “Not tonight. The lease is at the bank, in my safety-deposit box.”
“Tomorrow, then. But until you can prove you belong here, I’m staying.” She reached for her suitcase and started for her bedroom at the rear of the house. “You can stay, too, of course. I wouldn’t dream of making you go to a motel at this time of night.”
Making a choking sound, he moved in front of her, blocking her exit from the parlor. “I was here first,” he said, snapping his dark brows together in a menacing scowl.
It didn’t scare her. She was not in the mood to be intimidated by a…banker. “Not really. I was born here.” She squeezed by him.
He sucked in his breath as she brushed against him. Sidonie turned her head away, to hide her smug smile. There was more than one way to handle a man, especially the pompous kind, but this way worked so well.
He let her pass, then followed her so closely Sidonie could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. She walked faster, not caring that speed accentuated her ungainliness.
“What kind of female are you, anyway? You ought to be afraid of staying the night alone with me.”
Sidonie laughed. She wasn’t falling for his dangerous man act. “I’m not scared.”
“Maybe you should be,” he growled. “I’ve been known to take advantage of sweet young things.”
“I’m not so sweet,” she countered.
“Not that young, either.”
She stopped in her tracks. “There’s no need to be insulting.” Twenty-eight wasn’t old, even for a dancer. She still had a few good years left, provided her knee cooperated.
“I don’t suppose you’re worried about your reputation, either.” He put his hands on her shoulders.
Sidonie jumped. She could handle him fine, as long as he didn’t touch her. She tried to shrug out from under his hands, but he only tightened his grip. “What does that mean?”
“A lady would worry about what people will say when they find out she spent the night with me.”
Sidonie tossed her head, sending her red hair flying. “Would she, really? Is spending the night with a banker considered unladylike in this part of the world?”
“I’m not a banker,” he said, taking his hands away. He sounded startled.
At the door to her old bedroom, Sidonie turned to face him. “No? A preacher, then?”
“Hell, no.”
She waited. Apparently he wasn’t going to elaborate. “I’m a dancer. And you might as well know—I don’t care what people, say about me.”
“I didn’t think so. But I do care