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he replied, and she thought how that explained his dark
tan. “I’ll take you out for the day one weekend.”
     
    “Do you have cattle?”
she asked him on the way down to the street in the elevator.
     
    “Only a hundred head or
so,” he replied. “Purebred, mostly, a few crossbreeds. I do it for amusement. My
grandfather ranched out west.”
     
    “It must take an
awfully big horse,” she murmured absently, measuring his big, husky frame with
her eyes.
     
    A corner of his mouth
lifted. “It does. Can you ride?”
     
    “It’s been a long
time,” she admitted, “but I think I could still hold on.”
     
    “I’ve got a gentle
little mare you’d like.”
     
    “Dogs?” she asked as
they walked out onto the sidewalk under the lofty streetlights and neon lights.
     
    “One. A shepherd. The
caretaker and his wife look after him for me when I’m here.”
     
    “You don’t live there?”
she asked, amazed.
     
    “I have an apartment a
few blocks from my office,” he replied. “Some nights I don’t finish
untilmidnight . It’s an hour’s drive to the farm, but that seems like swimming
an ocean after a rough day.”
     
    She followed him to a
low-slung Jaguar XKE and gaped as he unlocked the passenger side. It was black
and sleek and looked as if it could race the wind.
     
    He caught the
astonishment on her face and smiled faintly.
     
    “What did you expect? A
sedate domestic vintage with an automatic transmission? I’m not that old,
honey,” he said amusedly.
     
    “I wasn’t thinking
that,” she said, dropping down into the plush leather bucket seat. It even
smelled expensive. “It isn’t conservative.”
     
    “Neither am I,” he said
softly. He closed the door for her and went around the hood to get in behind
the wheel. For such a big man, he managed to slide in gracefully.
     
     
     
    The statement was easy
to believe when she got on the dance floor with him in the very exclusive disco
restaurant and went wild trying to keep up with the intricate steps that he
managed effortlessly.
     
    “I thought you knew how
to do this,” he teased when the music stopped momentarily.
     
    She only laughed. “So
did I. I’m not in your league!”
     
    “I cheated,” he
replied. “I took lessons.”
     
    She was ashamed to
admit that she had, too. Always graceful on the dance floor, he made her look
as if she had two left feet.
     
    But the music was
invigorating, and he made dancing fun, so she danced until her legs throbbed
with weariness.
     
    Later, he took her to a
quiet little bar down the street where they sat sipping drinks over a table
where a single candle in a red lamp danced.
     
    “Tired?” he asked.
     
    She nodded with a
smile. “Deliciously. It was fun.”
     
    He lit a cigarette and
smoked quietly. “How did you get into reporting?” he asked.
     
    She watched him leaning
back against the booth, and her eyes were drawn involuntarily to his unbuttoned
jacket, where the silky shirt was pulled tight across his massive chest. A
shadowing of hair was just visible through the thin fabric.
     
    “My father told me not
to,” she replied in all honesty, keeping her wandering eyes on her glass.
     
    “He didn’t want you to
follow in his footsteps?”
     
    “He was afraid to let
me,” she said. Her slender hands fingered the frosty glass. “Dad liked a fight.
He wasn’t afraid to take on anyone. Crooked politicians, policemen on the take,
inept lawmen…anybody. He was threatened a lot, he had tires slashed and windows
broken, and once he even got shot at. He’s been lucky. He was afraid I might
not be.”
     
    “Are you afraid?” he
asked in a quiet voice.
     
    She didn’t dare look
up. “A little, sometimes,” she admitted. “Controversy is always frightening.”
     
    “Why bother with it?”
     
    She smiled. “It’s
news.”
     
    “Do you bleed ink?” he
asked conversationally.
     
    “I’ve never cut
myself,” she replied saucily.
     
    “Any brothers