The Texan’s Bride(4)

The small mixed Jack Russell terrier at her feet whined for attention. “What’s the matter, Mirry?” she cooed. She’d named her Miracle but she always called her Mirry. The dog sat on her foot as if all she needed was to know that someone cared. The poor thing looked pathetic with no tail or ears.

Jessie had found her on the side of the road and had taken her home and nourished her back to health. She couldn’t believe that some people could be so cruel, but no one was going to hurt Mirry again. She’d make sure of that.

The grandfather clock chimed in the hallway. It was time. Cadde would be here any minute. She’d bet money on it.

She straightened the dark suit and white silk blouse she’d worn to the board meeting this morning. Her hands went to her hair to check for loose strands that had worked their way out of her knot. She didn’t want to appear vulnerable.

Rosa, the housekeeper, walked in. “Can I get you anything, Miss Jessie?”

“No, thank you. If I need anything I’ll get it myself,” she chided softly. “Besides, I have iced tea.” She held up the glass. “That’s all I need.” A shot of vodka wouldn’t hurt, she mused to herself. Rosa would faint at the mention of such a thing. But if courage came in a bottle, she could definitely use it.

Round and barely five feet tall, Rosa was like her mother. She’d raised Jessie since she was seven years old. Sometimes she felt suffocated by all the sheltering. Her father never saw her as anyone but his baby girl who needed protection, as did Rosa. Jessie was thirty now and she was determined to have the life and freedom that she wanted.

“You’ve been so sad since Mr. Roscoe’s passing.”

“I’m okay,” she said, and smiled at the woman who would do anything for her. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m really fine. When Cadde arrives, tell him I’m in the sunroom.”

Rosa frowned. “What’s Mr. Cadde doing here this time of day?”

“Now, Rosa, don’t pry,” she teased.

Rosa shook a finger at her. “You’re up to something, Miss Jessie, I know that look.” Rosa had called her “Miss Jessie” ever since she could remember. She’d often asked Rosa to just call her Jessie, but Rosa never heeded her wishes.

They heard the back door open and close.

Rosa clicked her tongue as she went to confront their visitor. Jessie held her breath as she listened to the stomp-stomp of his boots against the hardwood floor. In a few seconds he was standing in the doorway, fury etched across his strong features. His jacket and tie from the morning were gone, but the jeans, white shirt, Stetson and boots were the same. The shirt was opened at the neck, revealing tiny swirls of dark chest hair. Her stomach tightened.

The first time she’d met him she’d thought how handsome he was: strong, powerful and everything a woman could want. There was just one problem. He treated her like a piece of the furniture. Today she was going to change that. She was going to rock Cadde Hardin’s world.

Without speaking to her, he walked into the room and carefully placed his hat on the table, as if he was gauging his next words.

“Okay, Jessie, we need to talk.” His deep voice demanded her attention.

She looked up, trying to appear as innocent as possible. “About what?”

“You know damn well about what. We talked last night and you seemed in agreement that Shilah should explore drilling outside of Texas, especially the Louisiana leases that Roscoe kept up-to-date. But once again you did a flip-flop. Why?”

“I didn’t promise you my vote.”

“Oh, no, you’re way too smart for that.” Anger now edged his voice and she could see that he was keeping a tight rein on his temper. His muscles were taut and his brown eyes intense. She refused to squirm. “Do you get some kind of perverse pleasure out of blocking my every move?”

“Actually, no.”

“Then what the hell is it?” He waved a hand around the green-and-white room. “This is paid for by Shilah. If the oil company goes under, so will all of this. Do you understand that?”

“I’m not stupid.” She could feel her anger bubbling to the surface and that’s the last thing she wanted. She had to remain calm, but that was hard to do with a six-foot-plus all-male glaring at her and demanding answers.

“Then why are you keeping Shilah stagnant? It has to grow to succeed.” He didn’t give her time to respond. “It’s me, isn’t it? You’re not comfortable with me taking over Roscoe’s position so you’re trying to stick it to me every way you can.”

She shook her head. “No. I think you’re more than qualified to fill Daddy’s shoes.”