Free Cactus Flower by Alice Duncan Page B

else down the stairs?”
           “No.”
           Very
well. So humor was out. “It was very kind of you to watch out for
me.”
           “Huh.”
           Annoying
man! Well, Eulalie wasn’t going to let him spoil her day. She hadn’t
met a man yet who wasn’t a fool for flattery—except, of course,
Edward, who had been perfect in every way. Eulalie thrust aside the
niggling voice in her head reminding her that Edward had been a trifle
on the spindly side. A man’s physique had nothing to do with his character,
she told herself. Nevertheless, judicious appreciation of his musculature
might be used to win a man over, if he believed a woman to be enamored
of his physical traits. Not that Eulalie would ever be swayed by so
unimportant an aspect of a fellow’s makeup as his muscles.
           It
was certainly warm in this revolting backwater. Eulalie wished she’d
thought to bring along her fan.
           However,
that was nothing to the purpose, and she had work to do. Therefore,
she said, “I imagine none of the men in town would dare challenge
you, Mr. Taggart. You’re so big and strong.” She contemplated batting
her eyelashes at him, but decided against it. No matter how much of
a rugged westerner Mr. Nick Taggart might be, Eulalie sensed that he
was neither stupid nor a man to be easily manipulated by such an overt
display of her charms. This was especially true since they hadn’t
exactly got off to a good start with each other.
           From
the way he looked at her, anyone would think she’d just told him to
jump out a third-story window—not that there were any buildings that
tall in this godforsaken place. “Yeah,” he said. “Right.”
           Eulalie
had been through a good deal of late. It had cost her a measure of self-respect
to be coy with Mr. Taggart, since coyness was not as much a part of
her character as was her sharp tongue. Her temper snapped. “For heaven’s
sake, Mr. Taggart, anybody would think I’d spent last night torturing
you! Can’t you at least be civil?”
           He
eyed her coldly. “Well, now, ma’am, I don’t know. Seems to me
you haven’t been awfully civil to me. Until now. I wonder why that
is.”
           “It’s
because I didn’t realize you were a gentleman until you proved yourself
to be one,” she said, lifting her chin and thinking she sounded like
an elderly matron from the Upper West Side in New York City.
           “Huh.
You don’t believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt, in other
words.”
           Lord,
no . Giving people the benefit of the doubt had been her and Patsy’s
downfall. What she said was, “I’ve discovered it to be prudent to
withhold judgment.”
           “That’s
crap.”
           They’d
been going down the uncarpeted staircase. Eulalie had just hit the bottom
step when that comment smote her ear. She whirled around and scowled
at him. “Well, really !”
           Nick
got to the bottom right after her. “You know I’m right.”
           “I
do not!”
           He
towered over her, and he was an exceptionally large man. Eulalie wasn’t
accustomed to feeling little and fragile, and she didn’t like it.
Well, she did like it, but she didn’t like it that she liked
it.
           “That’s
crap. You didn’t like me from the moment you saw me—and I was trying
to help you at the time, too.”
           Eulalie
couldn’t bear being loomed over like this. She feared for her self-control.
Turning so that she wouldn’t succumb to the temptation to leap upon
Nick Taggart and beg him to take care of her, which she knew to be a
foolhardy urge if she’d ever had one, she sniffed, whirled around,
marched toward the door and said, “If you will recall the circumstances,
I don’t believe you can fault me for my leap to judgment.”
           “Huh.
I guess I