that mystical concept known as love. I imagine it would be difficult now trying to make the adaptations necessary for marriage."
And, she suddenly realized, it would be much more dangerous. The thought of an affair with a man like Gage Fletcher was unsettling enough. The thought of marriage truly terrified her. After all, presumably one could always walk away from an affair that grew too tempestuous and traumatizing to handle. But the commitment of marriage would be much harder to break. She looked up and found him watching her intently, his expression unreadable. "What about you, Gage? What makes you mink you wouldn't make a good husband?"
He moved slowly across the room to sprawl in one of the chairs around the small kitchen table. "A variety of reasons. I'm nearly thirty-six years old and I think that love is mostly an illusion. I can understand desire and passion and need, but love? Well, that's for fantasy-spinning females. And females who want marriage want that fantasy. I'm unwilling to fake it for the sake of pleasing a woman. Even if I tried, it wouldn't last and it wouldn't be fair to her. Everyone has a right to his or her own dreams, but it would be wrong to pretend I was looking at the world through the same pair of rose-colored glasses. I prefer my relationships to be honest And I suppose that, like you, I'm rather set in my ways now. I have no desire to start changing my life-style in order to cater to the whims and demands of a wife."
Rani managed a slow smile, although it was an effort "A couple of crusty old bachelors and we haven't even gotten past forty yet At least we should allow ourselves some of the pleasures of our advancing years. Are you hungry?"
"Starving," he confirmed with alacrity. "I told you I make it a point not to miss meals."
The truce lasted throughout breakfast, and neither one sought to disturb it by bringing up the subject of Gage's real reason for showing up at Rani's door at six in the morning. She would have to confront his next weapon soon enough, she told herself as they worked their way through hotcakes with honey and butter. For now she preferred to enjoy a respite from the warfare.
"Your sister mentioned yesterday that Tanner thinks you'll make a good rancher's wife and I can see why," Gage remarked as he polished off the last of the hot-cakes. "You know how to cook and you go nicely with the southwestern look." This last remark was added with a meaningful glance at the interior decor of the condominium.
Rani decided to ignore the crack about King and shrugged instead. It was true. The condo, with its stylishly southwestern architectural features, suited her perfectly. There was a suggestion of the pueblo design in the beehive fireplace out in the living room. A luxuriously planted atrium lit by a skylight off the tiled entranceway reminded one of the cool, serene interior courtyards the Spanish had favored. The stucco-finished walls could have passed for adobe, and the windows were shaded and cool, allowing light without heat
Throughout, Rani had dispersed the furniture and accessories she had been collecting for the past several years. Everything had been shipped back from Dallas on the same day she had left for Albuquerque, and now the western palette of colors warmed the rooms. Rich rusty oranges, the soft peach of a desert at dawn and the rich tones of the earth were displayed in her furniture and carpets. On the patio outside the kitchen sat a nineteenth-century Mexican settee. Indian baskets and Indian-inspired rugs decorated the halls. There was a comfortable, gracious feel to the place, and Gage was right One really couldn't blame King for drawing his own conclusions from her surroundings. What the wealthy rancher failed to see was the overlay of city polish that glossed everything. It was not a working homestead. There was no room there for genuine mud or range dust It was a stylish city condominium done with panache, and it would not have translated very easily
And, she suddenly realized, it would be much more dangerous. The thought of an affair with a man like Gage Fletcher was unsettling enough. The thought of marriage truly terrified her. After all, presumably one could always walk away from an affair that grew too tempestuous and traumatizing to handle. But the commitment of marriage would be much harder to break. She looked up and found him watching her intently, his expression unreadable. "What about you, Gage? What makes you mink you wouldn't make a good husband?"
He moved slowly across the room to sprawl in one of the chairs around the small kitchen table. "A variety of reasons. I'm nearly thirty-six years old and I think that love is mostly an illusion. I can understand desire and passion and need, but love? Well, that's for fantasy-spinning females. And females who want marriage want that fantasy. I'm unwilling to fake it for the sake of pleasing a woman. Even if I tried, it wouldn't last and it wouldn't be fair to her. Everyone has a right to his or her own dreams, but it would be wrong to pretend I was looking at the world through the same pair of rose-colored glasses. I prefer my relationships to be honest And I suppose that, like you, I'm rather set in my ways now. I have no desire to start changing my life-style in order to cater to the whims and demands of a wife."
Rani managed a slow smile, although it was an effort "A couple of crusty old bachelors and we haven't even gotten past forty yet At least we should allow ourselves some of the pleasures of our advancing years. Are you hungry?"
"Starving," he confirmed with alacrity. "I told you I make it a point not to miss meals."
The truce lasted throughout breakfast, and neither one sought to disturb it by bringing up the subject of Gage's real reason for showing up at Rani's door at six in the morning. She would have to confront his next weapon soon enough, she told herself as they worked their way through hotcakes with honey and butter. For now she preferred to enjoy a respite from the warfare.
"Your sister mentioned yesterday that Tanner thinks you'll make a good rancher's wife and I can see why," Gage remarked as he polished off the last of the hot-cakes. "You know how to cook and you go nicely with the southwestern look." This last remark was added with a meaningful glance at the interior decor of the condominium.
Rani decided to ignore the crack about King and shrugged instead. It was true. The condo, with its stylishly southwestern architectural features, suited her perfectly. There was a suggestion of the pueblo design in the beehive fireplace out in the living room. A luxuriously planted atrium lit by a skylight off the tiled entranceway reminded one of the cool, serene interior courtyards the Spanish had favored. The stucco-finished walls could have passed for adobe, and the windows were shaded and cool, allowing light without heat
Throughout, Rani had dispersed the furniture and accessories she had been collecting for the past several years. Everything had been shipped back from Dallas on the same day she had left for Albuquerque, and now the western palette of colors warmed the rooms. Rich rusty oranges, the soft peach of a desert at dawn and the rich tones of the earth were displayed in her furniture and carpets. On the patio outside the kitchen sat a nineteenth-century Mexican settee. Indian baskets and Indian-inspired rugs decorated the halls. There was a comfortable, gracious feel to the place, and Gage was right One really couldn't blame King for drawing his own conclusions from her surroundings. What the wealthy rancher failed to see was the overlay of city polish that glossed everything. It was not a working homestead. There was no room there for genuine mud or range dust It was a stylish city condominium done with panache, and it would not have translated very easily
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