The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,21
meet you at Porter’s in thirty minutes.”
The instant she stepped outside her gaze landed on Cahill and she watched him stride across the square to the bank. He walked with a hypnotic economy of movement. He was graceful in an utterly masculine sort of way. Too bad she disliked him so much, she mused as she headed in the opposite direction to contact the owners of another restaurant on the northwest corner of Town Square.
Rosa suggested including all of the shopkeepers in providing food, drinks, tables and chairs for the grand affair. According to Rosa, she practiced the same policy when she held her annual Christmas celebration. All the businesses in town chipped in for food, entertainment and fireworks for a Fourth of July festival, she was told, so she wouldn’t have problems gaining cooperation.
Twenty minutes later Adrianna scurried across the square to the meat market and came face-to-face with Cahill when he exited the bank. She blew out her breath and blurted out, “I’m sorry for sounding so rude earlier. It was most impolite.”
“I won’t be joining your family and friends for lunch,” Quin said stiffly. “You can make up an excuse for me.”
She clutched his arm when he started off. “You are coming to lunch,” she said in no uncertain terms. “But first I want to know what this supposed Cahill Curse is all about.”
Quin scoffed. “It’s pure nonsense, manufactured by locals who believe my family deserved bad fortune because we have enjoyed wealth and success. It doesn’t seem to count that we worked long and hard for what we have accumulated.”
She nodded in understanding. “I’ve overheard similar comments in Boston because of my family’s influential position and fortune. The devil is out to get us, or at least he should be because our family cannot possibly have amassed so much wealth without swindling someone.”
“Precisely,” Quin said, then smiled faintly. “It’s easier to cut someone else down to your size instead of blaming your misfortune and shortcomings on yourself.” He stepped back a pace, then doubled at the waist. “So let’s start over, Boston, er, Adrianna,” he suggested. “I made several remarks at our first meeting that I regret.”
She eyed him consideringly, trying to decide if he was giving lip service or if he was sincere. This time, however, she was careful not to stare overly long into those silver-gray eyes. She had made that crucial mistake yesterday and she had blacked out, only to regain her senses and realize she was kissing Quin as if there were no tomorrow. It had been the most unsettling moment in recent memory. Correction. Ever.
“Apology accepted, Cahill, er, Quin. I probably over-reacted. I’m intent on making something of myself in Texas. It is important that I become as successful and business-minded as my father because I could never become the docile, soft-spoken lady he expected me to be when I entered Boston society.”
“What happened to your mother?” he asked gently, showing another side of himself that she rarely glimpsed.
“She died when I was sixteen. It was a devastating loss and it changed my father drastically. He became obsessed with transforming me into the genteel, gracious sophisticate my mother was. But I couldn’t be the extension of all that she was.”
She expelled a heavyhearted sigh, amazed that she was sharing a long-kept confidence with her antagonist. What the devil had come over her? They were standing right smack-dab in the middle of Town Square. Of all the places for a confidential conversation, this was not it.
“And who are you really, Adrianna?” he asked, studying her intently.
“The independent woman you see before you who doesn’t want to conform to the standards men in society have established for women. I want to confront challenges, to test myself and achieve my own goals.”
He smiled wryly. “Then let me say you are well on your way, Adrianna.”
A compliment? She glanced at him cautiously. Her knee-jerk reaction was to question a man’s compliment and determine his hidden agenda. “Are you trying to charm me, Quin?”
His sensuous lips twitched in amusement. “Is it even possible?”
She grinned back. “Considering your lack of charm? No.”
“Touché. I’m not known for my devastating charm.”
She bubbled in laughter—and realized that she had been so intent in conversation with Quin that she hadn’t realized the other four dinner companions had ambled up behind her.
She glanced back to see them staring curiously at her, making her self-conscious. “About time you showed up,” she said as she turned on her heel. “Cahill and I were just