Gard finished drinking the coffee in his cup, slowly enough that Cass wanted to screech at him, then stood up and brought the empty cup to the same table on which Cass had placed hers. “Seems to me that you’re getting pretty riled up over nothing,” he said with annoying calmness. “As for playing with you, Sassy Whitfield, a legal battle isn’t my idea of fun.”
He was standing right in front of her, and she vowed not to back away no matter what he did. This was her house, and this whole mess was his fault. “A legal battle is what you’re going to get, if you don’t make that decision,” she said, putting it forcefully.
“Know what I think, Sassy, honey? I think you’re mad at me for something that has nothing to do with that contract.”
“That’s absurd! I told you I want to clean things up here so I can return to my own home.”
“Then you’re not mad at me for some old sin I can’t even remember?”
Cass’s lips thinned. “I don’t doubt your memory lapse. No one could remember as many sins as you’ve racked up. The list is probably still growing.”
Gard grinned. “Today I am a solid citizen, Miss Whitfield. Which brings up an interesting question. How come you’re still a Miss?”
“You nervy...” She stopped short of an insulting name. “My personal life is none of your business! I’d like you to leave. Don’t underestimate me, Sterling. I haven’t forgotten how to handle a shotgun.”
Gard laughed. “Now you’re going to shoot me? Damn, I really must have done something terrible to make you think of murder. Did I kiss you?” His eyes crinkled teasingly. “Or maybe you wanted me to kiss you and I didn’t? Was that it?”
That was all Cass could take. Her anger exploded. “You conceited, amoral egomaniac! Get the hell out of my house! Any future communication about that contract will be between our lawyers. I will not tolerate any more of—”
The rest of her words were trapped in her throat. Gard had grabbed her and kissed her so fast, she hadn’t seen it coming. His arms held her in place, and his mouth moved on hers with complete and utter possession. Her fury was so intense, it nearly burst through her skin, but there wasn’t any way to break away. She tried all the tricks, the wriggling, the stamping on his toes, the growled, unintelligible invectives. If her hands were free, she would yank out every hair on his head. But her hands weren’t free; they were trapped at her sides by the strength of his brawny arms.
And then it began happening, a deeply rooted inner response to his heat and power. To him, to Gard Sterling, the last man in the world she wanted to feel anything for.
Gard finally broke the kiss and lifted his head. His eyes contained a slightly puzzled cast. “Kissing you feels kind of familiar. Should it?”
“You’re disgusting!” Internally Cass was a mass of quivering ambiguities. How dare he kiss her? But worse than his crime was her own; although she had shown nothing of what she’d felt during that kiss, she had liked it way too much.
The word disgusting hit Gard hard. He dropped his arms and took a backward step. “Guess I’d better apologize. I don’t know what came over me.”
Cass was trembling. “You haven’t changed an iota. You still do whatever comes to your mind and to hell with the consequences. Most people have grown up by the time they reach your age. Apparently you haven’t.”
Gard was feeling a little silly. He hadn’t grabbed a woman and forced a kiss on her since...since... Hell, had he ever forced a kiss on a woman?
Still, however foolish he felt, wasn’t Cassandra overreacting? She was genuinely furious, making truly cutting remarks, casting aspersions not only on his behavior in the past but on the kind of man he was today.
His voice became noticeably cooler. “I have grown up, lady, but I’m beginning to wonder about you. You’re just waiting to pounce on whatever I say or do, and—”
Cass broke in. “I suppose kissing a woman without any warning is adult conduct? And don’t waste your time wondering about me, not in any context. You and I wouldn’t be having these abominable meetings if it weren’t for that despicable contract, and I have to question where your father’s and mine’s good sense was when they devised such a...a ludicrous agreement.”
“It was a damned good agreement in their time,” Gard growled. “And it’s still good. Let me ask you this. Why do you feel like you have to hang around until I make a decision? Go on back to Oregon, if that’s what you’re so anxious to do. You’ve got capable employees. Let them take care of the place. They probably know a hell of a lot more about it than you do, anyway.”
Cass’s lip curled. “I neither want nor need advice from you about how I should handle my life, Gard Sterling. I’m staying right here until you do something about that option, and if you don’t shake your fanny and get it done in the very near future, I’m going to start legal proceedings to force a decision out of you.”
Smugly, Gard folded his arms. “Why don’t you do that? You’ll discover one thing about me, Sassy Whitfield. I don’t take kindly to threats, and I guarantee that if you bring this to the courts, I’ll have my lawyers drag it out so long, you and I will both be too old to care who owns the land in this valley by the time it’s settled.”
Cass’s anger was shrinking, becoming less general and thus better defined. As infuriating as it was, Gard was not going to be bullied into a quick decision, nor was the threat of a lawsuit going to speed him up. She had vowed to remain cool and collected during this meeting, and instead had behaved like a shrew.
But why had he kissed her? And why had she liked it, when she was so opposed to everything Gard Sterling and every other freewheeling, skirt-chaser represented? That’s what he’d been fourteen years ago, and he’d proved this afternoon that he was exactly the same, no matter how vociferously he claimed to be a respectable citizen these days.
The result of this second dismal meeting was that she had still gained no ground on that option. Maybe the only positive thing that had come out of it was the knowledge that he was going to take his own sweet time and she could like it or lump it. It was a frustrating moment, because she could almost see her chance to buy into the Deering Gallery flying out the window.
Still, she would do no more shouting or accusing. Gard Sterling always had been as obstinate as they came, and she would bet anything that the harder she pushed, the more stubborn he would become.
“Well,” she said calmly, seating herself with an air of regained self-possession that surprised Gard. “It appears that we’ve reached an impasse,” she said. “How do you propose we deal with that?” She sent him an innocent-eyed glance, and the essence of her expression struck Gard about four inches below his belt buckle. As insulting as Cassandra “Sassy” Whitfield could be, she was as sexy as any woman he’d ever met. A thought wormed its way into his mind and dug in hard and deep, as though entrenching itself permanently. I want her. Dammit, I want her!
Clearing his suddenly clogged throat, Gard approached the sofa and gingerly sat down. There was an ache in his groin that he knew wouldn’t be appeased today, though he vowed to cure that affliction in the very near future. In the meantime, he had to make friends with Cassandra...somehow.
“I’m not sure our situation should be labeled an impasse,” he said cautiously. “But, of course, we do have to find a way around it. As I said the other day, Cassandra, I need a little more time to study the sensibility and financial implications of buying you out.” He’d said no such thing—he’d talked about studying the consequences—but Cass merely nodded her acknowledgment. “Obviously,” Gard continued, “time is more important to you than it is to me.