Free Heartbreaker by Linda Howard Page B

tell by Bitsy's fatuous smile
that the other woman was lost in the romantic images of cowboys and horses that
so many people associated with ranching, ignoring or simply not imagining the
backbreaking hard work that went in to building a successful ranch. Or maybe it
was the rancher instead of the ranch that made Bitsy look so enraptured. She
was looking at John as if she could eat him alive. Michelle put her hands in
her lap to hide them because she had to clench her fists in order to resist
slapping Bitsy so hard she'd never even think of looking at John Rafferty
again.
    Fortunately good manners drove Bitsy back to
her own table after a few moments. John watched her sway through the tangle of
tables, then looked at Michelle with amusement in his eyes. "Who in hell
would call a grown woman
Bitsy?
"
    It was hard not to share his amusement.
"I think her real name is Elizabeth , so Bitsy is fairly reasonable as a nickname. Of
course, she was the ultimate preppy in college, so it fits.''
    "I thought it might be an indication of
her brain power," he said caustically; then the waiter approached to take
their orders, and John turned his attention to the menu.
    Michelle could only be grateful that Bitsy
hadn't been able to remain with them. The woman was one of the worst gossips
she'd ever met, and she didn't feel up to hearing the latest dirt on every
acquaintance they had in common. Bitsy's particular circle of friends were
rootless and a little savage in their pursuit of entertainment, and Michelle
had always made an effort to keep her distance from them. It hadn't always been
possible, but at least she had never been drawn into the center of the crowd.
    After lunch John asked if she would mind
waiting while he contacted one of his business associates. She started to
protest, then remembered that his men were taking care of the cattle today; she
had no reason to hurry back, and, in truth, she could use the day off. The
physical strain had been telling on her. Besides, this was the most time she'd
ever spent in his company, and she was loathe to see the day end. They weren't
arguing, and if she ignored his arrogant certainty that they were going to
sleep together, the day had really been rather calm. "I don't have to be
back at any certain time," she said, willing to let him decide when they
would return.
    As it happened, it was after dark before they
left Tampa . John's meeting had taken up more time than he'd
expected, but Michelle hadn't been bored, because he hadn't left her sitting in
the reception area. He'd taken her into the meeting with him, and it had been
so interesting that she hadn't been aware of the hours slipping past. It was
almost six when they finished, and by then John was hungry again; it was
another two hours before they were actually on their way.
    Michelle sat beside him, relaxed and a little
drowsy. John had stayed with coffee, because he was driving, but she'd had two
glasses of wine with her meal, and her bones felt mellow. The car was dark,
illuminated only by the dash lights, which gave a satanic cast to his
hard-planed face, and the traffic on U.S. 19 was light. She snuggled down into
the seat, making a comment only when John said something that required an
answer.
    Soon they ran into a steady rain, and the
rhythmic motion of the windshield wipers added to her drowsiness. The windows
began to fog, so John turned the air conditioning higher. Michelle sat up, hugging
her arms as the cooler air banished her drowsiness. Her silk dress didn't offer
much warmth. He glanced at her, then pulled to the side of the road.
    "Why are we stopping?"
    "Because you're cold." He shrugged
out of his suit jacket and draped it around her, enveloping her in the
transferred heat and the smell of his body. "We're almost two hours from
home, so why don't you take a nap? That wine's getting to you, isn't it?"
    "Mmmm." The sound of agreement was
distinctly drowsy. John touched her cheek gently, watching as her eyelids
closed, as