Anthony jumped in. “I am sure Melissa doesn’t want to discuss—”
“Do you mean right in Suri City?” she asked. “Or up in the mountains?”
Her answer surprised him. Most people had never heard of Sierra Benito, never mind its capital city.
“A little village called Tappee,” he told her.
Her head shook almost imperceptibly, but the small motion emphasized the bounce to her silky blond hair. “Horrible conditions up there. The villagers live in abject poverty.”
Anthony chuckled and swung an arm around her shoulders. “I welcome you to the debate, Senorita Melissa.”
Jared steeled himself against the urge to rip her out of Anthony’s arms. It was a ridiculous reaction. The half hug was a friendly gesture, nothing more.
“Do you have any idea what the gold miners do to the villagers?” Melissa asked. She didn’t react to Anthony’s hug—didn’t lean in, didn’t shrug him off, either.
“Do you have any idea what the rebels do to the gold miners?” Jared asked around the clamor of emotion inside his head.
What the hell was the matter with him?
What did he care if Anthony hugged Melissa?
She shook her head in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re going to exploit them.”
Jared jerked back at the accusation. “Exploit who?”
“The villagers.”
“I’m not going to exploit the villagers.” Jared’s gaze caught on Anthony’s hand and held.
Melissa was wearing a white cotton shirt. It was thin fabric, hardly a barrier between Anthony’s fingertips and her shoulder. Why didn’t she shrug him off?
She scoffed. “Right. You’ll subcontract the exploitation to Madre Gold to Tomesko Mining.”
“That’s a leap in logic,” he pointed out.
“There’s no other reason to go to Tappee.”
“We are building a medical clinic,” Anthony put in.
“Not necessarily,” Jared countered with a warning glare.
Melissa glanced from one to the other with surprise and more than a little curiosity.
“How do you know anything about Tappee?” he couldn’t help but probe, watching her closely for signs of … he wasn’t even sure what.
“I read the Chicago Daily,” she answered with a blink, and her green eyes went back to neutral. “There was a story last year about a mining engineer who was kidnapped by rebels.”
“The company paid a million dollars.” Jared took the story to its conclusion. “And they killed the guy, anyway.”
“That was more than a year ago,” said Anthony. “And we are not going there to mine.”
“You think they care?” asked Jared. “Do you honestly believe they won’t take any Westerner hostage?”
“I believe they do care,” said Melissa.
“Yeah?” Jared challenged. “Is that conclusion based on your vast travel experience with the American national bus system?”
“Do not be rude,” Anthony cut in, anger clear in his tone.
Well, Jared was angry, too. He’d had about enough of the argument, and he’d had about enough of watching Anthony maul Melissa. He grabbed his Stetson hat from a peg on the wall and crammed it on his head.
“I’m going to walk Melissa back to her cottage,” he announced, linking her arm and moving her firmly out of Anthony’s grasp.
“What in the hell.” Anthony began.
“You need to get back to the meeting,” Jared ordered over his shoulder, propelling Melissa toward the stairs. It took her a second to get her feet sorted out under her, but he made sure she didn’t stumble.
He could feel Anthony watching them as they crossed the darkened yard toward the driveway lights. Jared knew he was going to get an earful back in the house, but he didn’t care. He could give just as good as he got.
He marched her forward at a brisk pace. He didn’t know which cottage Melissa had been assigned, but single women were usually on the river side of the arena, so he took a chance and turned right.
“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t about walking me back to my cabin?” asked Melissa.
Jared gritted his teeth, struggling to bring his emotions back under control. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not here to earn money for a bus ticket?”
Melissa ordered herself not to panic. There was no reason to assume he knew the truth. But even as she mentally reassured herself, the roots of her hair prickled in dread.
His pace was brisk, his large hand still wrapped around her upper arm. It felt strong and uncompromising as steel. She wondered if he intended to march her all the way to his property line.
“First the chauffeur.” Jared’s angry voice cut through the night air. “Then Anthony.” He sucked in a tight breath. “And I can guess what went on with the damn horse.”
The last took Melissa by surprise.
The horse? Why would she interview his horse?
“Ride it yourself?” Jared taunted.
Melissa struggled to make sense out of the accusation. She hadn’t ridden the horse herself, but how could that possibly be relevant?
“Or did you get a little help?” he finished on a meaningful lilt.
He obviously already knew she had. There was no point in lying about that. “I got one of the cowboys to help me. Rich or Rand or Rafe … something …”
“I’ll just bet you did.” The contempt in Jared’s voice was crystal clear.
“So what?” Her confusion was starting to turn to annoyance. Rafe had, in fact, offered to help her. The whole operation hadn’t taken more than fifteen minutes of his time.
“So what?“ Jared jerked her to a stop and rounded on her, glaring from beneath his battered tan Stetson.
Melissa caught her breath while she searched his hard expression in the shadowed light. Why was the horse such a salient detail? Shouldn’t he be more upset about the way she’d pumped Anthony for information?
Unless …
It suddenly hit her that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. She wasn’t caught. Jared was angry about her interaction with his cowboys.
“Is there a company ban on cowboys helping stable hands?” she asked.
“No, but I’m thinking about banning fraternization.”
His obvious euphemism was more than a little offensive. “You think I had time to fraternize with Rafe before dinner?”
Something flickered in his eyes. It might have been regret. “I think flirting is your only life skill.”
“It’s not.” For starters, she had a university degree. She owned real estate. And she had a good job, soon to be a great job if she could pull off this interview.
“Do tell,” he challenged.
“I’m intelligent,