Free Sandra Chastain by Firebrand

she’d decided to lead the hands.
    Turning, he allowed himself to take a long look at Rusty Wilder. He’d thought his memory had played tricks on him last night. She couldn’t possibly be as beautiful and as full of fire as he’d thought. But she was. When her plane had slammed into the hangar, he’d felt something deep inside tear, and he’d lost control.
    The men he’d worked with had called him distant. But he’d known the truth. He was frozen inside. As long as he refused to allow any emotion to touch him, the wall of ice he’d created remained intact. First Pixie had come and begun chipping away at it, and then last night Rusty had put a big crack in it, so much so that the feared melting had begun in earnest.
    Cade felt like the little Dutch boy with his thumb in the hole in the dike, and every time he looked at Rusty another hole appeared. If Letty hadn’t interrupted,he’d have taken Rusty to bed and made love to her all night long. There was no doubt about that. And she would have let him. He couldn’t have been wrong about her response. She’d been as caught up in desire as he. Had his explanation been right? Had she been suffering from shock? That was likely. And that was the trouble.
    For most of the night he’d wrestled with the problem. Why was he having qualms about what had almost happened? If the goal of his being with Rusty was to produce a child, why would making love to her have been wrong? She wanted him; he had no doubt of that. He wanted her. Even now his body reminded him of that fact. Then why?
    He didn’t know, and that was what was bothering him. So far he’d spent two nights on Silverwild, and he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours all told. Sooner or later he’d have to find an answer.
    The sun was bright and warm this morning. In the distance the fresh snow on the Wasatch Mountain range glistened. Rusty couldn’t look at Cade. She focused her gaze on the snow. If only there were more snow, so many of her problems would be solved.
    At least that’s what she would have said last week.
    Now Cade McCall had just forced her to look at another problem, one he was creating with his interference. Of course she should be out there with her men. They expected her there. They were a team. She’d always directed them. They’d never given her any back talk about her orders. They simply followed them, silently, without comment.
    Still, she couldn’t help but think about the moment back there when Doak had been handing out assignments. The men had talked to him, verified, asked questions. They never did that with her. But that didn’t mean anything. They were just making certain they understood what he’d told them. Cade’s implication that she didn’t trust Doak had been an unnecessary dig. Doak knew she had confidence in him.
    “Of course I trust Doak,” she said into the long silence.
    “But you don’t let him make decisions.”
    “What business is that of yours, McCall?”
    “None, now, but what happens when you’re carrying our child?”
    Rusty let out a surprised breath as she unclenched the hand that was holding on to the door of the Jeep. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
    “Maybe” was his only comment.
    “Damn you, Cade McCall,” she finally said. “You’ve only just come here, and already you’re trying to do the very thing I explicitly warned you against.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Take over Silverwild.
I
am in charge, and I’ll stay in charge.”
    “I know,” he admitted, and after a long while turned toward her with genuine regret in his eyes. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
    “You are?” An apology was totally unexpected. He was still looking at her with regret. This morning his dark eyes seemed old, very old, as if he’d witnessed the passage of a thousand years and stored those visions somewhere deep inside. Therewas pain there, and maybe acceptance. She felt her heart pounding and caught her breath. The silence