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  "My God! Why didn't you tell me that?"

  "You didn't want to listen," she replied doggedly. "You were too busy telling me what an underhanded lit­tle golddigger I was!"

  He sighed angrily. "I know plenty about golddig-gers," he said defensively. "Until I married, I fielded them like baseballs."

  "You never had to field me!" Pepi returned. She glared at him from the depths of her feather pillow. "I looked after you when you needed it and I liked to think we were friends, but that's all it was," she lied, salvag­ing what she could of her pride. "I never wanted to marry you!"

  His dark eyes narrowed as he turned that statement over in his mind and examined it. He didn't believe her. She'd been vulnerable to him before he'd hurt her pride so badly. If any feeling was still there, he might be able to reach it if he was careful, and slow,

  "I remember telling you once that I had nothing left of love in me," he said. "It felt like that, for a long time. I got numb, I think, because of the guilt. I wouldn't let myself feel."

  She lowered her eyes to his chest. "Yes, I can under­stand that," she said gently. "But I was never any threat to you, C.C."

  "Weren't you?" he mused, smiling faintly. "You were the most caring little thing I'd ever met. You mothered me. Funny, how much I enjoyed that after a while. Ap­ple pie when I was broody, hot stew when I was cold, unexpected things like puff pastries in my saddlebags when I went out to roundup. Oh, you got under my skin, Pepi, right from the beginning. The miracle is that I didn't realize how far."

  "You don't have to baby me," she muttered, glaring at him. "What you said when you found out we were married was the truth. It was honest. I always knew you wouldn't want a fat frump like me—"

  "Pepi!"

  "Well, I am one," she said doggedly, her fingers clenching in the cover. "Ugly and overweight and coun­try to the bone. Dad used to say that you were sophisti­cated enough for a debutante, and he was right. Edie's just your style."

  He leaned back in his chair. "Edie doesn't want a house in the country and two or three kids," he said qui­etly.

  So that was it. He couldn't have Edie, so he might be willing to settle for second-best—for Pepi. She lowered her eyes. She'd wanted him for so long that she was al­most ready to take him on any terms, even on the re­bound. But she couldn't forget the things he'd said about her, and to her.

  "You might be able to change her mind," she said.

  He scowled, watching her. "I don't want to change it," he said surprisingly. "Pepi, we're married."

  She colored. "That isn't a hurdle. I told you, I've al­ready seen Mr. Hardy. All you have to do is sign the pa­pers on Friday and he'll get the annulment underway."

  He felt that statement to his bones. He shifted in the chair, his gaze on her flushed face. "You haven't consid­ered the options. Your father is still just barely operat­ing in the black. I could put the ranch back on its feet for good. You might find a few things that you wanted, too. After all, I'm rich."

  "I don't care about your money," she returned, her pale brown eyes accusing. "I like having food in the house and a roof over my head, but I couldn't care less about how much money I've got, and you know it!"

  His breath sighed out roughly. "Is it Hale?" he de­manded. "Is he why you're in such a rush to get an an­nulment?"

  Her eyes dilated. " You're the one who was demand­ing a speedy end to the marriage!"

  "Yes, well, I've had second thoughts." He uncrossed his legs and sprawled, one hand loosely grasping the almost-finished cigarette as he stared at her. "If I'm al­ready married, I won't have to fend off potential brides, will I?" he added.

  She sat up straight in bed. "Now, you listen here, C.C, I'm not going to become a human sacrifice to save you from the aitar! Marrying you sure wasn't my idea!"

  "You could have called my bluff," he reminded her, his dark eyes faintly twinkling. "Why didn't you?"

  "I told you! Because I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in a Mexican jail!"

  "If I was drunk enough to pass out. I was too drunk to cause much trouble," he continued. "Besides, I didn't have a gun."

  She drew up her knees angrily and clasped her arms around them. "You've got all the answers, haven't you?"

  "Not quite all," he said. "But I'm getting there." He took his time, stabbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. "You said once that you and Hale were lovers. Are you?" he asked, lifting his eyes back to hers.

  She gave him a wary look, hoping he hadn't seen through the lie. If he thought she and Brandon were close, it might keep him at bay until she could decide how to cope with this newest complication. "That's none of your business."

  "The hell it's not. You're mine."

  Electricity danced through her veins, but she didn't let him see the reaction in her eyes. "No, I am not. You're only married to me because of an accident. That means Brandon is none of your concern."

  He got up with deceptive laziness and put the ashtray back on the side table. "I'm making him my business." He paused at her bedside, narrow eyes assessing, threat­ening. "You aren't sleeping with him again," he said shortly. "And no more dates, either. From now on, you'll stay at home where you belong."

  Her eyes opened wide. "Who do you think you are?" she demanded.

  "Your husband," he said, "Mrs. Tremayne."

  "Don't call me that," she grumbled. "It's not my name."

  "Oh, yes, it is. And you can forget that annulment. I won't sign the papers."

  "But, you have to!" she said helplessly.

  "Really? Why?" he asked, and looked interested.

  "Because it's the only way to get rid of me!"

  He pursed his lips and let his eyes slide over her. "Do I want to do that? After all, you've been looking out for me for the past three years, through thick and thin. You're a treasure, Pepi. I don't intend giving you up to the redheaded vet. You can tell him I said so."

  "I don't want to be married to you," she yelled.

  He lifted his eyebrows. "How do you know that? I haven't made love to you yet."

  She went scarlet. Her fingers grasped the covers in a death-grip and she stiffened when he took a step closer to the bed, her eyes as wide as saucers in her flushed face.

  He shook his head and made a clicking sound with his tongue. "My God, if you keep up this attitude, it's going to be damned hard for us to have children together."

  "I won't have children!" she whispered.

  "Well, not like that," he murmured, grinning. "You do know how women get them?"

  "Sure," she said hesitantly. "From the hospital."

  "That comes later," he reminded her. He smiled. "Afterward."

  That slow, meaningful smile made her nervous. "I don't want to sleep with you," she told him.

  "We won't sleep," he promised.

  "Will you get out of here!"

  Before he could reply, the bedroom door opened sud­denly and her father glanced from one of them to the other, scowling. "For God's sake, what's all the yelling about?"

  "I've been explaining the facts of life to Pepi." C.C. shrugged. "She thinks babies came from the hospital. Did you tell her that?"

  Ben looked flustered. "Well, not exactly. . . Look here, what are you doing in her bedroom?"

  "We're married," C.C. reminded him. He produced an envelope. "The marriage license is in here."

  "But you don't want to be married to her," Ben re­turned. "You said so. You went off to get an annul­ment."

  "I changed my mind. She's a good cook, she's nice looking, and she doesn't have any bad habits. I could do worse."

  "I could do better!" Pepi shouted, red-faced. "You get out of here, Connal Tremayne! I'm getting that annul­ment, and you can go to hell!"

  C.C. exchanged an amused glance with Ben. "I sup­pose you taught her to swear, too?" he asked the older man. "For shame!"

  "She taught me," Ben said defensively. "And I don't think she wants to say married to you, C.C."

  "Sure she does!" he replied. "It's just going
to take a little time to convince her of it. Meanwhile—" he threw an arm across the older man's shoulder "—I want to talk to you about some improvements I have in mind for the house and the ranch."

  "Don't you listen!" Pepi raged. "He's trying to buy us!"

  "I am not!" C.C. said indignantly. "I'm trying to overcome your objections. Your father wouldn't mind a partner, I'll bet. Especially when it's his own brand-new son-in-law. Right, Dad?" he added, smiling with cro­codile intensity at the older man.

  "Right, son!" Ben agreed, grinning back. "I hadn't thought about that," he mused to himself. "I'll finally have a son of my own!"

  "Are you both forgetting something?" Pepi asked haughtily.

  "I don't think so," C.C. replied.

  "I'm not staying married to you!" she told him. "I'm getting an annulment."

  "Don't worry, Dad," C.C. told Ben encouragingly. "She has to have my cooperation for that, and I'll never agree. Imagine a woman hard-hearted enough to try to get rid of a man even before the honeymoon!"

  "Say, that's right, you haven't had a honeymoon," Ben agreed.

  "C.C. can go on the honeymoon by himself," Pepi said. "I hear it's nice in Canada this time of year. Don't they have grizzly bears up there. . .?"

  "We don't have time for a honeymoon just now," C.C. replied easily. "We've got too much work to do fixing up the ranch. First, I thought we'd get a contrac­tor over here and let him look at the house. I'm inviting my brothers up from Jacobsville to talk to us about get­ting one or two Santa Gertrudis seed bulls. . ."

  "Stop!" Pepi held up her hand. "I won't agree to this!"

  "What do you have to do with it?" C.C. asked inno­cently. "Your father and I are going to be partners."

  "Dad, you can't let him do this," she pleaded with her parent.

  Ben lifted his eyebrows. "Why not?" he asked.

  "She's only frustrated," C.C. said, leading the older man out the door. "A little loving will put her on the right track in no time."

  "You try it and I'll crack your head with a tire iron!" she raged.

  C.C. grinned at her from the doorway. "I do like a woman with spirit," he murmured.

  "Will you please leave?" she said, admitting defeat. "I want to go to sleep."

  "You might as well. Maybe it will improve your mood," he said as he closed the door.

  "Improve my mood," she muttered, glaring at the closed door. "First he insults me, then he storms off in a snit demanding an annulment and now he wants to go partners with Dad. I will never understand men as long as I live!"

  She put her head under the pillow. But despite her best attempts, it was early morning before she finally got to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  It wasn't at all unusual for C.C. to have breakfast with Pepi and her father, but in recent months he'd kept very much to himself. Even so, Pepi wasn't surprised to find him sitting in the dining room with her father when she came down to breakfast. She was surprised to find food on the table, waiting for her, right down to a fresh pot of coffee.

  "Shocked, are we?" C.C. murmured dryly, his dark eyes sliding possessively down her body, clad in jeans and boots and a white blouse with a yellow knit pullover sweater. "Think men are helpless, do we?

  She glanced around, looking to see how many people he was talking to.

  "Cute," he chuckled. "Sit down and eat, before it gets cold."

  She took the chair across from him, next to her fa­ther. Her gaze went restlessly from C.C. in working clothes—denim and chambray—to her father in a suit.

  "Are you planning to be buried before the end of the day, or are you going somewhere?" she asked Ben.

  "I'm going to the bank to pay off the note on the place," he said hesitantly.

  "With what?" she cried.

  "We can talk about it later," C.C. interrupted. "Eat your eggs."

  "With what?" she persisted, glaring at her father. He looked guilty. Her eyes went to a smug C.C, leaning back like a conqueror with his shirt straining over a muscular chest and broad shoulders while he watched her. "You did it. You gave him the money to pay off the note, didn't you?" she demanded.

  "He's my father-in-law," C.C said easily. "Not to mention my partner. We're having the papers drawn up today. Your father is seeing about it while he's in town."

  "You aren't going with him?" she asked warily.

  He shrugged. "We've got a new shipment of cattle coming in. Somebody has to be here to sign for them and oversee the unloading."

  "New cattle?" She knew her eyes were bulging. "What new cattle?"

  "Some heifers to add to our replacement heifers, that's all," C.C. assured her. He grinned. "But we're going to have two purebred Santa Gertrudis bulls. My brothers are coming up tomorrow."

  "There are more like you?" she wondered aloud, re­calling his vague reference to them the night before.

  "Three," he reminded her.

  "God help us all. Are they married?"

  His dark eyes narrowed. "One of them is. The young­est. The older two are still single, and don't get any ideas. You've already got a husband."

  "Only until I can get your signature on a document," she replied sweetly.

  "And hell will freeze over, first," he returned.

  "Can't we save the arguing for later?" Ben moaned. "I want to enjoy my breakfast."

  "He's got a point. Have some salsa."

  She gave up. She spooned the brilliant red salsa over her eggs and savored the spicy flavor they gave the per­fectly cooked scrambled eggs. The bacon was neatly done, too, and the biscuits were even better than her own.

  She frowned at C.C. She knew that he, like most of the men, could whip up a meal when he had to. But this was beyond the scope of most men who weren't professional chefs. "You cooked all this?"

  "Did I say that?" C.C. asked innocently.

  "Well, no. . ."

  "Consuelo did it," Ben told her. "We thought you might like a late morning, what with all the excitement last night."

  "Excitement," she muttered. "First he wants an an­nulment and now he doesn't want one."

  "Let's just say that I came to my senses in time," C.C. said lazily, smiling at her over a forkful of eggs. His gaze went to her full lips and lingered there, before it slid back up to catch and hold hers. "I know a good thing when I see it."

  Her heart went crazy. It wasn't fair, to do this to her. "Why do you need me to ward off prospective brides?" she managed in a husky tone.

  "Because I'm going to start a small branch of the family business over here," he replied. "Most people in southeastern Texas know the Tremayne properties. Pretty soon they'll know them in El Peso, and I'll be on the en­dangered species list. That's where you come in. If I have too many money-hungry women after me, all I have to do is produce my sweet little wife to ward them off."

  "I'm not sweet and I'm not little." She put down her fork. "I'm plain and fat, you said so."

  His jaw clenched. "I said a lot of things I regret," he replied. "I hope you're not going to spend the next twenty years throwing them in my face every time you get hot under the collar."

  She stared at him until she had to drop her eyes to her plate in self-defense. That level, unblinking stare of his had backed down grown men in a temper. She shifted under it. "You said you didn't want to get married."

  "I didn't. But it's something of a fait accompli, now, isn't it?"

  "A what?" she frowned.

  He lifted an eyebrow. "It's French. It means an ac­complished fact. You don't speak French, I gather. I do. I'll teach you. It's a sexy language. So is Spanish."

  She cleared her throat and sipped coffee. "I don't have a facility for languages."

  "A few words won't hurt you. Especially," he added softly, "the right kind of words."

  She knew what he was insinuating. Her gaze went helplessly to his face and slid to his thin, firm mouth. She'd always wondered how it would feel on hers, but in three years he'd never really kissed her, unless she counted a peck on the lips under the mis
tletoe that time, and that was as impersonal as a smile. She'd dreamed and dreamed about his arms around her, the pleasure of hav­ing him kiss her in a fever of passion. Of course, she wasn't the kind of woman who inspired passion in men. Edie was.

  Edie. She thought about the other woman and felt un­easy all over again. She had a pretty good idea what C.C. had seen in Edie and she wondered if he planned to con­tinue that relationship. The marriage was by no means a real one. He could claim that Pepi had no right to tell him what he could and couldn't do, and he'd be right. They were only married in name.

  She put down her fork, her appetite gone. If only he loved her. If only he'd married her voluntarily, and not because of a drunken rampage.

  "What's the matter now?" her father muttered, watching her expression change. "You look like the end of the world."

  "I couldn't sleep," she said defensively.

  "Dreaming about me." C.C. grinned.

  She glared at him. "I was not!"

  "That's right, Pepi, fight it. But I'll win," he added quietly, getting to his feet to stare down at her. "And you know it."

  She didn't understand his new attitude, or that look in his dark eyes, either. She looked up at him helplessly.

  "All at sea, aren't you, little one?" he murmured. "Well, it's going to take some time, but you'll get the idea eventually. See you later, Ben." He tossed down the rest of his coffee, retrieved his Stetson from the counter and slanted it across his eyes. "Why don't you come down to the loading dock and watch us move the cattle in?" he asked Pepi.

  It was the first such invitation he'd ever extended to her, almost as if he'd welcome her company. She didn't know how to respond to it, so she hesitated.

  "Suit yourself," he said on a heavy sigh. "If you change your mind, you know where I'll be."

  He went out the door and Pepi exchanged a puzzled glance with her father.

  "What's going on?" she asked him.

  "Damned if I know, except that he's sure done a hard about-face," Ben replied. "I can't say I'm sorry, in one respect. This land has been in our family since just after the Civil War. I'd hate like hell to lose it, because of my own financial incompetence."