Page 22 of Cutter’s Lady

“The words ‘nice’ and ‘man’ are not mutually exclusive. You don’t have to act like an ape to prove that you’re a man!”

“And that’s how I act?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must have a real fondness for hairy creatures, lady, ‘cause you sure as hell kissed me back!”

“You’re unbelievable!” Leslie wanted to punch him. The man was completely infuriating! No one had ever made her come so close to losing control. Leslie turned and stalked off, clenching her fists in an effort to bring herself back into some semblance of calm.

Finally she turned, and her voice was cool, precise and deadly. “You seem to be laboring under some misapprehension. I don’t know where you get your ideas, but I didn’t want you to kiss me, and I do not want you to do so in the future. I’m in charge here, in case you’ve forgotten. And if you expect to work for me, that’s one of the rules. I will not tolerate any more of these sly sexual innuendos or juvenile passes. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.” Cutter’s voice was dry and caustic, and his pale eyes were more than a match for hers in hardness. “Believe me, I won’t come near you in the future. In fact, I’d be happier if you were in another country. I don’t have any fondness for having an ice cube in my bed. But, lady, you’re the one who’s operating under a misapprehension. You may have hired me, but down here you’re not in charge. I am. I’m the expert on San Cristóbal, remember? That’s why you took me on. I know the country, and I know the people. I know far better than you what needs to be done, where to go and who to see. So I decide what, where and when, and I’m not putting up with any arguing and questioning from you. And that’s not being sexist; that’s being smart.”

“If you think I’m going to meekly follow your orders every time, you better think again.”

Cutter jabbed his forefinger at her. “You will follow my orders or this is the end of the deal. I’m not going to put my life in danger because you’re too self-important to do what’s best. And it’s not only my life you’ll be risking by not following orders; it’s yours and your husband’s—excuse me, ex-husband’s. I’ll do everything I can to save his hide, but if you insist on meddling, you’re going to be on your own. Agreed?”

At this point Leslie hated to agree with him on anything, but she was too practical not to realize that he was making a valid point. She would certainly expect Cutter to stay out of her way if she was negotiating the purchase of a hotel; here, he was the expert and she was the rank amateur, and she had to let him be in charge if the venture had any hope of succeeding.

She took a breath. “Agreed.”

He looked first belligerent, then surprised, and Leslie knew she had cut his knees out from under him by accepting his terms. At least that gave her a bit of satisfaction. However, he recovered quickly. “Good. Then get your stuff packed. I’m going to rent us a car, and when I get back, we’re starting out for Chempua.”

***

Leslie released some of her anger by throwing her things into the suitcases, but since she had unpacked only what she needed last night and today, there was little to repack. When she finished, she went downstairs and took a taxi to the bank to make her financial arrangements. She returned to the hotel, ordered lunch from room service and sat down to wait for Cutter.

The day dragged by. How could it take Cutter so long to rent a car? She worried that something had happened to him. She worried that he was selling her out. But she had agreed to follow his orders, so she simply had to wait.

As the hours passed, Leslie’s anger with Cutter that morning dwindled, overwhelmed by fear, doubt and boredom. Looking back on it, what had happened was not enough to get excited about. Maldenado’s chauvinistic attitude had been annoying, true, but that was hardly Cutter’s fault. And while she didn’t like Cutter’s suggestion that she should act more feminine with men here, she knew he was right that she would get farther if she did. Though she couldn’t understand why it was so important to Cutter, he was also right about her telling him that Blake was her husband; it hadn’t been truthful and she’d had plenty of time to explain it since she’d first blurted it out. Of course, those hadn’t been the only things Cutter was right about: she had responded to his kiss.

Leslie blushed a little just thinking about it. She shouldn’t have enjoyed that kiss a bit, not with the high-handed way he’d gone about it. Still, there was no denying that she had; his kiss had rattled her to the core. She had never felt such a blinding surge of passion before. It was ironic that it had come with a man like Cutter, whom she didn’t even like!

He was good-looking. Leslie had to admit that. And there was something definitely sexy about his lazy, lean-hipped walk, not to mention the pale green eyes that could look right through you or the sensual mouth with its slow grin. There was no denying it: physically, Cutter was appealing. Obviously too appealing. Leslie hadn’t dreamed that she could be drawn to a man physically without at least liking him. She had always considered herself more intellectual than emotional and more emotional than physical. It was a shock to find her physical nature suddenly taking over.

Well, it wouldn’t happen again. She’d be careful to keep her brain in command around Cutter from now on. She hated her momentary lapse this morning into wild, impulsive behavior. While the intense surge of passion had been pleasurable, it was too scary for her to indulge in it again. It was part of the small aspect of her personality that she had always been careful to keep under tight rein. It was like her mother, and she wasn’t about to let it develop. She would not kiss Cutter again. In fact, she planned to kill whatever physical attraction he held for her. She would remain aloof. When he was around, she would remind herself of all the things she disliked about him. Most of all, she would not let herself be dragged into the kind of raging argument they’d had today.

She had been just as over-the-top in her anger as she had been in her response to his kiss. It was obvious that Cutter somehow broke through her control in many ways. He managed to bring out the worst in her—even emotions she didn’t know existed within herself. She was thoroughly embarrassed by the way she had behaved.

The best thing to do would be to put their relationship on a more even keel. She must guard against the anger and dislike he aroused in her just as she would guard against her physical response to him. She would treat him with the good humor and respect she showed her other employees. She would keep her temper down—and she would ignore his appealing face and form. It was in this positive frame of mind that she greeted Cutter when he knocked on her door later in the afternoon. It didn’t take long for him to test her resolves.

“Your clothes ready?” He glanced around her room and his eyes settled on her three pieces of luggage. “You aren’t planning on taking all that.”

“I didn’t see much point in leaving it here.”

“It’s too much. We’ll have a car only part of the way. The rest of the trip will be on burros or on foot.” He strode to bags and unzipped the long leather garment bag. Ruthlessly he pulled out the clothes inside and sorted through them, tossing her jeans and plainest shirts onto the bed. He held up an elegant black dress and flashed her a look of disgust. “You planning on going to a cocktail party with the guerrilla fighters?”

“I thought we might have to attend some government thing. Or a party at the embassy after we get Blake. You know.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve never been to a party at the embassy.” He hung the dress back in the closet and added Leslie’s other attractive suits and dresses. “You won’t need any of those where we’re going.”

“Surely I could wear the pants.”

“If you want to subject them to mud, rain, burros and grass stains.”

“Oh, all right. But I need the hats for the sun.”

“Not two. Take the one you can fold up. Leave the garden party here.” He tossed aside the broad-brimmed hat she usually wore to the beach.