Silver and Spice

you now.” Distress was mirrored in her clear green eyes as she thought about something he’d said earlier. “Jake, how could you have gotten involved in something as fly-by-night as silver mines when you… Look. How deeply are you involved? No, I really don’t want to get embroiled in your personal affairs, but for god’s sake if you’re in over your head…”

“You’d help me?”

“Don’t make fun, Jake,” she warned in a low voice.

His silvery eyes settled on hers. “I wasn’t. And I never have. And if you’ve ever misunderstood that-”

She waved that aside with a motion of her fingers. Irrelevant. “The last I knew, you were tearing up your inheritance and tossing it to the four winds, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is that you seem to have actually accumulated something to put away, and I really don’t want to see you just gamble it away, risk it all again…”

“Exactly why I need your help,” Jake agreed, claiming her frustrated little half-fist on the table. Slowly, he smoothed out her fingers, his thumb rubbing gently up and down her soft palm to her wrist. “Laird must have mentioned that I’m willing to give you full power of attorney. You can do whatever you want with everything I have. Lock all the money up in trusts so tight that I can’t get my hands on it. You’re going to love the Silver Valley in Idaho,” he promised her.

She stiffened. “I am not going with you.” Her hand shot away from his.

He didn’t seem to notice. He was busy removing the spotless white napkin from her lap and standing up. “We might as well go if you’re not even going to drink your coffee.”

“I am not going to become involved in your personal affairs, Jake. Nor do I want your power of attorney. Ever.”

“Now let’s not say things we might have to take back,” he said mildly. “And I do promise, Anne, that you’re going with me.”

Why try to talk to a red flannel brick wall? Gritting her teeth, Anne led the way out of the restaurant and tried to force her blood pressure back down. Standing on the lamp-lit street, she shivered suddenly in the cold night air. A gray mist was climbing around the lampposts in whimsical little clouds. She buttoned her velvet jacket very slowly while Jake waited with an elusive half-smile.

“Ready for me to take you home and seduce you?” he asked casually.

“No.”

She slipped into the car and waited for Jake to come around to his side. While the engine was warming, he leaned back for a moment and just stared at Anne. She felt his eyes sweep over her fine-boned profile, taking in the slight flush in her cheeks, the way her lashes fluttered away from him when she felt that claim of possession. She knew he’d meant what he said. A polite kiss at the door was not what he had in mind. She stared straight ahead. “I think you should see something of your grandfather. You’ve been in town more than a day already, and Gil-”

Jake chuckled and backed out of the parking space. “The lady will just build up anxiety by waiting, but we’ll let her have her way,” he told the sky. “I called Gramps earlier this afternoon to let him know we’d be there,” he told Anne.

She leaned back in the seat and ignored him. Did she have a choice? They drove in silence for a few minutes, Jake’s car lapping up the freeway. “Anne?” he said finally. “The financial bit was a smoke screen. I think you know that.”

“Pardon?”

“A smoke screen. An excuse.” Jake flicked a glance at the rearview mirror, changed lanes and pulled over to the shoulder of the expressway-to Anne’s total horror. Cars whizzed past, headlights blinding them. She glanced out the rear window in search of approaching police cars, but Jake firmly turned her head until she was eye to eye with him. The smooth laziness was gone from his tone; his tenor was rough and sharp. “I’ve never wanted anyone intruding in my personal affairs, financial or otherwise, except you, Anne, but that isn’t the point. Giving you an excuse to come with me was the point. If you need it, take it,” he said harshly when she parted her lips to protest. “I’ll invent just as many excuses as you need. All I want is two weeks with you, Anne. Two weeks to convince you to marry me. And I’m going to have those two weeks.” He paused. “We’re not a matched set. If you think I don’t know it, you’re crazy. Unfortunately, though, I just can’t go on anymore without you, Anne. I’ve tried working myself half to death and not sleeping, and I’ve tried other women, but nothing works, and I’m damned tired of trying to make it without you. That’s the bottom line. And you’ve got the same problem, now, haven’t you?”

Anne just looked at him. Light and then shadow from the passing cars intermittently flashed across his face. Something tight and hard seemed to have settled in her throat. Jake had never talked that way; he’d always been an easy, slow, sensual lover, impulsive in a way she found irresistible.

Marry him? It was finally sinking in that he actually meant it. Oddly, the thought hurt her, deep inside. She’d fallen in love with the wolf who nipped at her hooks and eyes in the middle of a formal party, with the devil who dared to send an outrageous camisole to her at her sedate office. At thirty-one, though, she couldn’t keep on playing. She needed roots, and Jake couldn’t even define the word. Romance was a parachute jump where all the thrill was in midair, but Anne knew she couldn’t live her life without something to hold on to. She’d spent a whole childhood falling.

“Jake, it’s no good,” she said desperately.

“We’re going to have to try.” Jake touched her cheek gently, then settled back and turned his attention to the road again, easing the car back onto the expressway.

“All this time, you never said anything-”

“All this time,” he echoed, “I gave you every chance to find someone who would fit that mold you have in mind for a husband, Anne. Security, white picket fence, gray flannel suit-the whole bit. You’ve failed, honey. And I’m all through gnashing my teeth and worrying about who the hell you might be letting your hair down for, that he’d be the total ass I think you have in mind.”

“I’m certainly glad you appreciate my taste in men,” Anne remarked.

Jake shot her an amused glance. “Honey, a man who makes love to his wife two-point-three times a week couldn’t keep you happy by a long shot. It isn’t my fault you’ve built up these terrible misconceptions of what’s important in your life. You forget I’ve been there when the lights were off.”

Far too often, Anne thought darkly.

Jake pulled into the long, shadowed drive of his grandfather’s house. A three-story stone mansion sat at the end of the drive. Warm lamps lit an impeccably landscaped lawn. Jake stopped the car, switched off the ignition and turned to Anne, who was ostentatiously studying the scene outside. “If I didn’t think you were desperately in need of a little sustenance, Anne, I’d be awfully inclined to offer you a little tangible proof…”

She got out of the car, slammed the door and stalked deliberately toward the house.

Chapter 4

Gil Rivard was a perfect gentleman, certainly nothing like his grandson. He offered Anne a brisk, affectionate hug and a hand to hold on to as he led her through the hall to the living room. Unconsciously, she found herself smiling, looking with affection at the white-haired man with the gentle gray eyes who always made it so very clear he was glad to see her. “So our wanderer’s turned up again like the proverbial bad penny, Anne. What kind of trouble has he been in this time?”

“Don’t feed her lines, Gramps. She’s sassy enough. You two want brandy?”

“Please,” Anne murmured. Her need for Dutch courage must have shown in her voice, because Jake chuckled as he left the room. She and Gil exchanged glances.

“Your grandson…” she began gravely, and watched Gil’s fine network of crow’s-feet crinkle up when he laughed.

“I’m not responsible for his behavior, Anne,” Gil told her.

“Someone failed to take him into the woodshed when he was still a child.”

Gil shook his head. “You can’t claim he’s spoiled. Jake’s never asked for or expected anything from anyone in his life.”

“So every once in a while he has a good point or two.” She settled back in the wicker peacock chair that was