Читать книгу Have Cowboy, Need Cupid - Rita Herron - Страница 12

As usual, Rafe rose early the next morning, knowing he had to finish his chores and clean up before lunch to make it to the town meeting by noon. He and his two hands, Bud and Red, had finished moving the cattle to the east grazing pasture, then Bud and Red stopped to repair the fencing that had been torn down by the last ice storm along the northern border of his property. Rafe rode Thunder, his prized stallion, across the rolling hills toward the ranch house, the fresh scent of hay and dirt soothing to his weary state.

He had not slept well the night before.

Dreams of dancing with Suzanne Hartwell had haunted his sleep. He could still smell the sultry essence of her expensive perfume and feel the satiny softness of her hair tickling his chin. And those subtle curves. Oh, at first she’d looked like a bony model, but beneath those stiff designer clothes, he’d sensed a softness that had melted into the hard planes of his own body. A softness and passion that had turned him inside out. Unbridled hunger, sass, spunk—Suzanne Hartwell was no shy, wimpy female. Pampered and spoiled, yes. But defenseless and naive—no way. Making love to her would be like taming a wild horse, he imagined. Or dancing with the wolves.

The reason she was off-limits.

Rich, city women could never understand the kind of life he led, the love of the land, the adrenaline that kept him alive as he worked with his hands. The pleasure that pumped through him as he listened to the night sounds of the farm, the cows, the crickets, the blissful quiet of a hot summer’s night. The primitive raw power he thrived on by living off the land, by mastering a wild stallion.

Yep, Suzanne Hartwell was the wrong kind of woman to play footsie with. She was not a nature-loving, horse kind of girl, but a mall-loving, diamond-studded piece of eye candy. He should never have indulged his wanderlust by flirting with her, should never have held her in his arms.

Hell, he didn’t have time to indulge himself with any woman right now, especially one like her. His ranch needed major work. And now with his mother’s health failing, the inside of the house was deteriorating, too. Maria, the Hispanic woman he’d recently hired to help out, was nice enough, but she’d dyed all his undershorts pink. Apparently she didn’t have a good grasp of laundry skills.

Pink undershorts were the least of his worries.

Hopefully, some of the townsfolk would rally to his side against the idea of the new development. At least stalling the project would help get that developer off his back for a while. Maybe then Slim Wallace would cut him some slack. Knowing Rafe had a buyer made it way too easy for Slim to play hard-ball and lower the ax on Rafe. Sell, Slim had told him. Sell it and get out of debt.

Then where would Rafe be?

He would have nothing. His hands tightened on the horse’s reins as he let Thunder guide him over the ridge. His land stretched for miles, the lush green North Georgia mountains rising in front of him, the thick pines and hardwoods and apple houses in the distance a reminder of his heritage. He had grown up here, ridden this same stretch with his grandfather and listened to his stories of the old pioneer days of his forefathers. He wanted to pass that heritage along to his son one day.

Today he would fight for himself and the preservation of Sugar Hill. Let Suzanne Hartwell have the city. Hopefully, she’d already gone back to Atlanta, with its fancy shops and smog and traffic, where she belonged.

“YES, JAMES, I’m almost there.” Cell phone in hand, Suzanne squinted through the high noon sun as she drove toward city hall. “I’m right on time for that town meeting.”

“Good. I want a full report so we know what we’re up against, especially if those small-towners protest the development,” James said. “Have you met Rafe McAllister yet?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’s bending any?”

“It’s too early to tell.”

“Well, I know you, honey. You can charm the pants off any man.”

If he didn’t charm her pants off first. Annoyance hit her as James’ comment sank in. “James, you aren’t suggesting…?”

“No, of course not, that was just a figure of speech.”

“Good. Because I have no intention of seducing some man just to steal his property from him.” Of course, seducing him for pleasure had crossed her mind the night before.

Quickly, Suzanne tried to change the subject. “How about Forrest Anderson? Did he agree to sell?”

“Yes, but his neighbor Will Samuels refused. And we need both properties to have enough land to complete the proposed site.” James sighed. “Even if they agreed, neither piece of land is as nice as McAllister’s or as convenient to the interstate. I can already envision the houses we could build on that side of the mountain.”

“The property is pretty spectacular,” Suzanne admitted, although she still couldn’t imagine moving out to the country. She liked the bustle of midtown, the art shows and theaters and nightclubs. Although, the traffic definitely got on her nerves. Where would James want to live if she accepted his proposal and they married? His home in Buckhead was nice but cold, and far from homey.

The sapphire ring sparkled from her right hand where she’d decided to wear it until she made a decision. So far James hadn’t pressured her for an answer to his proposal. And she didn’t expect him to, not until this deal was settled.

Business always came first with James.

Not that she could blame him. He had a fortune riding on this project. She hung up with him and studied the fading chipped paint of some of the downtown area. Alison’s bridal shop, Weddings to Remember, had been freshly painted, and the Hotspot, Mimi and Rebecca’s bookstore/café had new awnings, but some of the other buildings desperately needed facelifts. The new development would definitely boost the economy and enable the locals to update their own businesses. She mentally added the argument to her list as she parked in front of city hall. Already cars, SUVs and minivans overflowed the parking lot. Slim Wallace, the head of the bank, raced in, yanking at his baggy trousers.

As soon as she entered the meeting room, she felt the tension in the air. Her uncle Wiley stood at the front of the room, clad in his signature lime-green jacket and checkered pants. Cousins Hannah, Mimi, Alison and their husbands occupied front row seats. Her sister Rebecca and Thomas sat behind them, and locals filled the other rows of chairs. A few she recognized from her short visits into Sugar Hill, but most were strangers.

The hair on the back of her neck suddenly prickled, and she glanced to her left. Standing against the far back wall, looking tall and imposing in his dusty jeans, with his black Stetson tipped low on his head, stood Rafe McAllister. And from the dark stare he slanted her way, he didn’t look pleased to see her.

WHAT THE HELL was Suzanne Hartwell doing at a Sugar Hill town meeting?

Rafe glared at her, irritated that she’d gotten under his skin. She had no reason to be here, no right to get involved in the town’s business.

No right to stir his libido and make him want things he couldn’t have.

The mayor, Orville Lewis, a portly man with a bald spot as big as Rafe’s fist, called the meeting to order. “We’re here to discuss the future of Sugar Hill,” Mayor Lewis said.

“You mean the demise,” Carter Anderson, the owner of the local dry cleaners, yelled.

His comment started everyone talking and shouting and arguing at once.

“We have to put a stop to this land developer coming in and taking over our town!” an elderly man shouted.

“I moved here to get away from the city. There’s too much noise and traffic in Atlanta,” a middle-aged man in a gray suit said. “And now folks want to build a big mall that will draw crowds out here.”

“Cars’ll be clogging our roads, blowing exhaust into the air and bringing all kinds of derelicts around,” a frail woman in a pink knit dress exclaimed.

“But it would be nice not to have to drive two or three hours to buy school clothes for the kids,” Mrs. Ludwig, mother of five, argued.

Myrtle Lowercrust, the children’s church choir director stood up. “The kids won’t have the country air to breathe and the space to run and play.”

“Be a bunch of cookie-cutter houses and apartments everywhere,” her sister, Ethel, added.

“But we’ll have movie theaters and restaurants to choose from, and maybe even a nice dance studio that will offer some culture to this backward town,” another woman protested.

“Our town is not backward.” Hannah Hartwell Tippins placed a hand over her rounded belly. “We have good hometown values. And safe streets for the children.”

“Some progress is good,” Rebecca’s husband, Dr. Thomas Emerson, pointed out. “Maybe we could compromise and find a happy medium. I’m sure you people want the best medical care available.”

“We have a good hospital,” Alison pointed out. “And Brady runs the medical helicopter service for emergencies.”

“I want my kids to smell fresh air and see the wildflowers on the mountains in the spring,” Rebecca said. “Not have high-rises and concrete blocking the views.”

Wiley Hartwell flapped his arms like a peacock. “We don’t need strangers coming in, starting up businesses that will take away from our own. My car dealership, the local hardware store, they’ll all be run off by corporations and chains.”

“You men are just worried about your wallets,” Wanita Rivers, Rafe’s mother’s friend, said. “Maybe we women would like to dress in style for a change, not have to shop at the outlet mall for last year’s throwaways.”

“Think about the jobs a new mall would bring,” Vivian Hartwell said.

“Yeah, then all our kids wouldn’t have to leave Sugar Hill to find jobs,” a young mother shouted.

“My filling station would probably pick up business,” Eke Turner added.

“But with it comes more crime,” Jake Tippins, Hannah’s husband and now town sheriff, pointed out.

The mayor beat his gavel, yelling for order, but the women from the Prayer Wagon burst through the door, then stomped across the crowded room, bouncing homemade protest signs and banners in the air. “Stop the development! Leave Sugar Hill be.”

Jean Ann Tucker, spokeswoman for the group, raised a bull horn. “We don’t want this mall. It’ll bring sleazy nightclubs and strip joints and those awful bars where people get shot!”

Anita Haynes flopped a hand dramatically over her bosom. “There’ll be raping and pillaging in the streets!”

Rafe grinned to himself, grateful for all the drama queens. He opened his mouth to voice his opinion when Suzanne Hartwell suddenly shot to the front of the room. What the hell was she doing?

HEAVENS ALIVE! Suzanne had heard enough. These people were about to create a panic like nothing she’d ever seen. “You’re imagining the worst, when you should consider all the benefits this development will offer.” Suzanne kept her voice calm, well aware half of the town was shooting daggers at her while the other half nodded her on.

“Many positive things result from a new development. While petty crimes might increase slightly and a few nightclubs might spring up close to the mall, they’ll be so far out of town they won’t detract from the culture of Sugar Hill. The retail jobs the various establishments would offer and tourists they would attract would be invaluable. Just think of the tax revenues and employment opportunities. Construction, security positions, opportunities for web designers, buyers, decorating firms, the list is endless. And don’t forget that the town’s economy has been sliding the last few years. All the downtown stores need updating. More people moving to town would be a major boost to the economy. Consider the advantages you can give your children with added revenues. You can finally put computers in the schools and modernize the classrooms.”

Rafe McAllister stalked toward her, propped his hands on his hips and glared down at her. She was certainly passionate about her arguments, but she was on the wrong damn side of the issue. “You don’t even live in this town, Ms. Hartwell, so why do you think you have the right to tell people what to do?”

A few patrons in back amened his comment. Suzanne twisted sideways, jerking her head to stare into his eyes. He towered over her, but she refused to let him intimidate her. “Half of my family lives here, Mr. McAllister. Besides, I’m simply pointing out things to help everyone make an informed, rational decision.”

“Your opinion doesn’t matter,” Rafe said, jamming his face angrily in hers. “So why don’t you flit back to the city you love so much, and let the people who live in this town decide what they want?”

“Here, here,” a few angry locals shouted.

“Let’s have some order,” the mayor yelled, slamming his gavel down again. “I say we table this discussion for now. Everyone has brought up some interesting points. I’ll appoint a committee to explore all sides, and we’ll reconvene in a week to discuss it further.”

The crowd applauded, then began to disperse. Rafe pulled Suzanne outside. “Why are you nosing in here when this is none of your business? You don’t live or work here.”

Suzanne tensed, glancing down at her arm where his fingers held her. Had he figured out she was working for Horton Developers?

Part of her wanted to admit the truth about her intentions, to lay her cards on the table, but the other part wasn’t prepared for his wrath. She needed to focus before she revealed her part in the development. She needed to get to know him better and find that weak spot.

If he had one.

Landing this promotion would give her the independence and the financial security she wanted. And she’d make her father proud, something she’d strived for all her life. She couldn’t let Rafe interfere because he was too stubborn to realize that change was good.

“I suppose you’re so simpleminded that you’d return to the way the town was a hundred years ago. Forget the cars and electric appliances, let’s all drive wagons and wash our clothes by beating them on the rocks!”

“Simpleminded? You think ranching is simpleminded work?”

He stepped forward, planting the hard wall of his chest against her. Fury blazed in his eyes as he pinned her still. “Just who do you think you are? Do you even have a job or do you let Daddy pay your bills?”

Suzanne’s breath wheezed out, but she didn’t back down. “My father does not support me, Mr. McAllister. I work…in an office and raise money for charities.” Not exactly a lie. She did help her father host several charity parties.

“You have no idea how beautiful the mountains are around here, do you?” His gruff voice skated over her nerve endings, his words evoking images of him and mountain peaks, riding off into a sunset, bareback and bare chested.

Good Lord, what in the world was wrong with her?

“The mayor has given everyone a week to think about this. Did you know it’s my property that developer wants to destroy?”

“Really?” Suzanne played dumb.

“Really.” Rafe’s fingers were still wound tight around her arm. “I dare you to come out and see my spread, ride across the land, smell the air and the mountains and then advocate turning my ranch into a damn shopping mall.”

“All right, I will.” Suzanne aimed her seductive smile at him. The dare would be a piece of cake. While she was riding the land, she’d be able to point out all the advantages to selling. And before the week ended she’d have him eating out of the palm of her hand.

There was no way she’d lose a dare to this infuriating man. Or anything else.

No matter how sexy he was….