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over for you to- morrow," he added. "No arguments. It's the way things are done. The fact that you've
got money doesn't set you that far apart." "But we don't have money," she said, smiling ruefully. "Not
anymore." "Yes, I know." She looked up, defeated. "I guess you know, too, that we're going to lose
everything we have. I only hope we'll have enough money to repay you and the other investors." "I
didn't come here to talk business," he said quietly. "I came to see if I could do anything else to help."
She had to fight tears. "No," she said. "Heaven knows, you've already done more than your share,
Cade." "You look tired," he said, his dark eyes sweeping over her creamy skin now pale with fatigue.
She had big brown eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion, and a body that made him ache every time
he looked at it. She wasn't pretty. Without makeup she was fairly plain. But Cade saw her with eyes
that had known her most of her life, and they found her lovely. She didn't know that. He'd made sure
she didn't know it. He had to. He removed his hat, unloading snow onto the faded Oriental rug, onto
his worn boots. "Mother and the boys send their condolences too," he added, and his eyes darkened
as he looked down at her. Bess misunderstood that dark appraisal. He looked at her as if he despised
her. Probably he did, too, she thought miserably. She was her father's daughter, and her father's risky
venture might have cost him his ranch. She knew he'd had to borrow heavily to scrape up the money to
invest in her father's venture. Why had he done it? she wondered. But, then, who could ever figure
Cade? "That's very kind of them, considering what my father cost you all," she replied. A corner of
his mouth curled up, and it wasn't a kind smile. "We lost our shirts," he said. He reached into his
pocket for a cigarette and without bothering to ask if she minded, lit it. He let out a thick cloud of
smoke, his eyes taking in her thinness, the unhealthy whiteness of her face. "But you know that
already. Your mother is going to have hell adjusting." That was true. "She isn't strong," she said
absently, lowering her eyes to his broad chest. Muscles rippled there when he breathed. He was
powerfully built, for all his slimness. She'd seen him without a shirt, working in the fields in the
summer, and the memory of it made her feel warm all over. With his shirt off, he was devastating.
Bronzed muscle, covered with a thick, sexy wedge of hair that ran from his chest down to his lean
stomach, into the belt at his jeans. . . . "She smothers you," he returned, cutting into her shocking
thoughts. "She always has. You're twenty- three, but you act sixteen. She'll never let you grow up. She
needs somebody to lean on. Now that your father's gone, you'll be her prop. She'll wear you down and
bring you down, just as she did him." Her dark eyes flinched. "What do you know about my mother?"
she demanded. "You hate her, God knows why ..." "Yes, I do," he said without hesitation, and his
black eyes pierced hers, glittering like flaming coals. "And God does know why. You don't know
what she really is, but you'll find out someday. But it will be too late." "What can I do, Cade, walk
out on her?" she cried. "How could I, when she's just lost everything! I'm all she's got." "And she's all
you'll ever have," he returned coldly. "Cold comfort in your old age. She's a selfish, cruel little
opportunist with an eye to the main chance and her own comfort. Given a choice between you and a
luxurious life-style, she'd dump you like yesterday's garbage." She wanted to hit him. He aroused the
most violent sensations in her. He always had. She hated that cold look on his face, the devastating
masculinity of him that put her back up even at a distance. But she kept her feelings to herself,
especially her temper. "You don't know either of us," she said. He moved a little closer, threatening
her now with just the warmth of his body, his superior height. He looked down at her with an
expression in his eyes that made her toes curl inside her shoes. "I know what I need to know," he said.
He studied her face in the silence of the hall. "You're very pale, little one," he said then, his voice so
soft that it didn't even sound like Cade's. "I'm sorry about your father. He was a good man. Just
misguided and gullible. He didn't force any of us to invest, you know. He was as badly fooled by the
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