But he would bite off his tongue before laying that complex explanation on Cassandra Whitfield. Besides, it was none of her business, even though it was the reason why he hadn’t immediately given her an answer on that option. The thing was, Loyal Sterling and Ridge Whitfield had had a dream of a united valley. To assure that only Sterlings or Whitfields would ever own any portion of it, they had devised that contract, which said, simply, that if either a Sterling or a Whitfield needed to sell out for any reason, the other party had first right of refusal.
That was what he and Cassandra were stuck with today, their fathers’ hopes for the continuity of the valley they had loved so much. Obviously it hadn’t occurred to either man that their children wouldn’t welcome the same arrangement. Gard had every intention of living out his life on the Sterling land, but he had all but destroyed his chances of buying out Cassandra. She, on the other hand, probably had more money than she could spend in three lifetimes but had no interest in either the Whitfield land or Montana.
For some reason, Gard couldn’t tell her that he just didn’t have the financial means to buy her out. Thus, his answer to her question—Where is the problem in that decision?—was an almost belligerent, “The contract recites a ‘reasonable length of time’ for either of us to make that decision, which is the only reference to time in the entire document. As I see it, the only problem we have is with your impatience.”
“You’ve had a reasonable length of time,” Cassandra said sharply. Then, wincing at the tone of her voice, she added in a calmer vein, “Three months seems very reasonable to me.”
“What’s reasonable to you isn’t necessarily reasonable to me,” Gard retorted.
“Just what do you consider reasonable?” Cassandra leaned forward again. “How much more time do you need? I want this thing settled. I want to get on with my life, which doesn’t involve twiddling my thumbs in Montana. I have work to do in Oregon.” And, hopefully, in California.
“Oh? What do you do?” Gard was fascinated by the play of light in her green eyes. Along with that observation, Gard was becoming aware that Cassandra was trying desperately to keep a lid on her emotions. She was being polite when she would probably rather scream at him to get off his duff and do something about that option.
Mentally he snapped his fingers. That was it! She was a different person today than when he’d last seen her. Not that he could pinpoint that exact occasion, but the perfectly groomed woman across the table was not the girl in his memory, fuzzy as it was. That girl had been...
He smiled suddenly. “Now I remember what everyone called you when we were kids. It was Sassy. Sassy Cassie Whitfield.” Cassandra’s face turned three shades of red. “Hey, does that embarrass you? Hell, Sassy, you can’t change who you were as a kid.”
She was close to exploding, despite her determination to remain calm and collected. “I would think you would be the last person to be drumming up old nicknames, Rebel Sterling!”
He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “My God, I’d almost forgotten that, too. Well, you might find this hard to believe, Sassy, but Rebel Sterling is just another member of the establishment today.”
“You don’t look it,” she snapped, and realized that it felt good to finally release her stringent hold on her emotions.
He grinned, lazily. “I’ll take that as a compliment, honey. You know, every once in a while the old juices start flowing and try awfully hard to tempt me into doing something wild and crazy. But I’m a changed man, Cassandra. When that happens, I pour myself a glass of ice tea, sit on the back porch and watch the sunset.”
That was too much for Cass to swallow. “Oh, give me a break,” she drawled scathingly. “The day you drink ice tea instead of hard liquor and watch a sunset instead of the nearest woman in a tight skirt is the day I’ll believe in leprechauns.”
Gard put on a hurt face. “Sassy, Sassy, you must only remember the bad in me, and that kind of pains me. Weren’t you and I friends?”
“No,” she said flatly. “You and I were never friends. Look, Gard, I didn’t come here to discuss your character or mine. I’ll ask again. How much more time do you intend taking to make your decision on that option?”
Gard’s thoughts would have surprised Cassandra. He wanted to honor the contract between his father and hers, if there was any way at all to do it. Strangers moving into the valley and living on the Whitfield place, doing God knew what with it, wasn’t a pleasant prospect. Besides, there was something else going on in the back of his mind. The longer he delayed that decision, the longer Cassandra would be a neighbor. He wanted to see more of her, get to know her. She was the prettiest, most interesting woman he’d met in ages, and it intrigued him that they’d grown up within miles of each other, and here they were, together again after fourteen years. Besides, he wanted to remember that elusive memory that somehow seemed important, and if she scurried back to Oregon, it might forever elude him.
Deliberately portraying a man with a vexing problem, he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I really can’t give you a time limit, Cassandra. There are circumstances—a little too personal to explain—and there’s my own place to consider. A merger of that size can’t be decided overnight.”
“Overnight! You’ve had three months!” Cassandra simply couldn’t sit still any longer, and she got up to pace the room. “Give me some idea...anything. How about another week?”
Solemnly Gard shook his head. “Not nearly enough time.”
“Then two weeks...a month. Dammit, you can’t leave me hanging like this!” How would she explain this to Francis? God knew she would have to try.
“Leaving you hanging is not my intention, but I can’t make this decision without further studying the consequences.”
Cassandra turned to face him. “That’s what you’ve been doing for three months, studying the consequences?” She sounded blatantly skeptical. “I honestly thought a face-to-face discussion would resolve the problem. Believe me, I never would have suggested this meeting otherwise.”
Gard got to his feet. “At the risk of upsetting you more than you already are, I’d like to say something. You, Sassy Whitfield, are one very beautiful lady. What I’d really like to know is why I didn’t notice that before you left the valley.”
The strength drained out of Cassandra. The wretch really had no memory of that night. For fourteen years she had lived with periodic bouts of despising him, even while knowing that deep down she had never despised him. That had been the problem. She had suffered such an all-consuming crush on bad-boy Rebel Sterling that a mere glimpse of him had made her weak in the knees. After that night at the sand dunes, she had realized that her mind had been even weaker than her knees.
And he didn’t even remember it.
Maybe she did despise him. Certainly, looking at that cocky grin on his face at this moment, despising him was as natural as breathing.
Walking over to the table, she picked up her purse. “Your opinion of my looks is completely immaterial. All I want from you is a decision on that option.” Despite her determination to remain composed, her voice rose. “I don’t know what game it is you’re playing, but you won’t convince me that you’re not up to something.”
“Tell you what,” Gard said matter-of-factly. “Give me a few days and then let’s get together again. How about on Friday? I could come to your place, or you could come to mine. Meeting here is kind of silly, don’t you think?”
“A few days?” Would he really have an answer in a few days? Cass didn’t want to be gullible about this, but she wanted this ridiculous situation over and done with. At least she wanted the freedom to call Francis and say, “The legal problems are over. I can put the ranch on the market and I’m sure it will sell quickly.”
And now that she’d actually seen Gard, and survived, it really didn’t matter where they met. “All right, fine. You may come