Denim and Lace Read Free Page A

daughter who looked like an attractive twenty-three-year-old woman, which would remind Gussie of her own age.
    As Cade neared her, the contrast between them was much more noticeable than at a distance. Bess was a lady, and Cade had been raised rough and without the social graces. She was a society girl and he was part Comanche, a cowboy who was expected to come to the back door when Frank Samson had hired him three years ago to teach Bess how to ride. He still bristled with anger remembering how those riding lessons had ended so abruptly, and for what reason. That, too, had been Gussie’s fault. Most of the resentments in his adult life could be laid at her door, and foremost of them was the untimely death of his father. He wondered if Bess knew about it. He couldn’t imagine that Gussie had ever told her, and Bess would have been too young to remember. Cade, who was thirty-four to Bess’s twenty-three, remembered all too well.
    Bess Samson saw Cade coming toward her, and all her dreams seemed to merge in him. Her heart jumped up like a startled thing, and she had to clench her teeth to control her scattered emotions. Even though she’d hoped that she might see him at the house, it was a shock to have him actually appear. The calf was hurt or sick, and Cade cared about little lost things, even if he didn’t care about her.
    Whatever Cade felt, he kept to himself. Except for one devastating lapse when he’d become a cold, mocking, threatening stranger, he’d kept Bess at a cold distance and treated her with something bordering on contempt. She knew that he didn’t have much time for rich society girls, but his contempt even extended to her mother, who, God knew, was harmless enough.
    She couldn’t quite meet those cold black eyes under the wide brim of Cade’s Stetson when he reined up in front of her. He wasn’t a handsome man. He had strong features, but his face was too angular and broad, his eyebrows too heavy, his nose too formidable and his mouth too thin and cruel. His only saving grace was his exquisite physique. He had the most perfect body Bess had ever seen in her life, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, long-legged and powerful. He looked lithe and slim until he moved into action, and then he was all muscle and masculinity. But Bess tried not to notice those things. It was too embarrassing to remember what had happened between them in the past and the contempt he still held for her, along with a barely hidden anger.
    â€œI...went to the house to tell someone that the calves were out,” she stammered. He made her feel like a schoolgirl. “But then when I came back, I saw this little one lying down...”
    Cade swung out of the saddle gracefully, although he still favored the leg with the pulled tendon a little when he went to kneel beside the little red-and-white-coated calf. “It’s dangerous to go near a downed calf when his mama’s close by,” he informed her without looking up. His lean, sure hands went over the calf while he checked for injury or disease. “I don’t run polled cattle here. Mine have horns, and they use them.”
    â€œI know that,” she said gently. “Is she all right?”
    â€œShe’s a he, and no, he’s not all right. It looks very much like scours.” He stood up, lifting the calf gently in his arms. “I’ll take him back with me.” He spared her a glance. “Thanks for stopping.”
    She walked after him. “Can I...hold him for you while you get on the horse?” she offered unsteadily.
    He stopped at the bay and turned, his eyes twinkling for an instant with surprise. “In that dress?” he asked, letting his eyes run down her slender figure with blatant appreciation. “Silk, isn’t it? You’d go home smelling of calf and worse, and the dress would most likely be ruined. His plumbing’s torn up,” he added dryly, putting it discreetly.
    But