And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2) Read Free Page B

expression on her lovely face convinced him she was telling the truth. From somewhere deep inside, he dug up the details. “He died in Aspen the day before yesterday.”
    “Skiing accident?”
    Jake shook his head. “An aneurysm. He got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and fell over dead.”
    All the color drained from her face. “And I yelled at you for— When all the time you—” She closed her eyes tightly. “I’m so sorry.”
    Jake had heard those words over and over the past two days, especially this morning at the funeral. But for the first time he believed them. Her distress touched something inside him that seemed to need touching. He felt comforted and felt a sudden urge to comfort her.
    Damn! She’d sneaked up on him again. He felt like a faucet, running hot, then cold, then hot again—and Claire Eden was turning the spigots.
    What he needed was a quick exit. He’d punished her, and himself, now he just needed to get the hell out of there before he did something stupid.
    But he couldn’t. They were stuck for God knew how long.
    What the hell was he going to do? He needed to steer the conversation away from Alan. That subject was too raw, too painful, too full of emotions he couldn’t deal with in front of a stranger.
    “Listen,” he said, trying to mask his desperation. “We may be stuck in here for a good long while. Let’s sit down and you can tell me about your ideas for Pawnee Investments.”
    She gaped at him as if he’d asked her to take off all her clothes. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    “I assure you, I’m not.”
    “After what I did? I couldn’t possibly—” She shook her head vehemently. “I’d have to be kicked up the evolutionary ladder several rungs to be pond scum.”
    He smiled faintly at the image. “Indulge me, and I’ll think hard about kicking you.”
    “Don’t you understand? I just blundered into a faux pas nightmares are made of, and you want me to make it worse by talking business?”
    “Talking business always distracts me, and after your faux pas of nightmare proportions, it’s your obligation to distract me, don’t you think?”
    The skin above her nose wrinkled as her brows tried to meet. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
    He drew a quick breath and released it as quickly. “I won’t use the obvious metaphor. But yes, I’m serious. We could be stuck in here several hours. Why not spend the time productively? With Alan dead, I’ll have to oversee the bean counting at Pawnee Investments. I want to be certain the people counting those beans know what they’re doing.”
    If it had been possible, Claire would’ve run screaming from the elevator. She wasn’t prepared for this. “I...I don’t have enough information about Pawnee’s assets to talk intelligently now. If we could meet tomorrow—”
    “Wing it.” He folded his overcoat neatly and handed it to her. “Here. Sit.”
    Claire stared blankly at the coat he held out to her. Didn’t the man have any feelings at all? How could he discuss business? His friend had just died.
    “It’s not going to bite you,” he said impatiently.
    His eyes looked like black holes in the dim light. She shivered. “I can’t sit on your coat.”
    “Why not?”
    “It probably cost more than I’m worth.”
    His dark eyes searched her face a long moment. When he finally replied, his voice was soft, husky. “We’ll see about that.”
    Claire swallowed to clear the sudden thickness in her throat. “Mr. Anderson, I—”
    “Here.” He bent suddenly and placed the coat on the floor. “Sit.”
    Claire blinked at the sudden change—from tender to domineering in seconds flat. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was a cowboy. “Maybe I prefer to stand.”
    He straightened. The dim light and his height made it seem as if he were looking down his nose at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. We could be in here all night Are you going to stand the entire time?”
    She lifted her chin