Haunted by Heather Graham Page B

Busy. The world goes on there.”
    â€œD.C.,” Chisel-face murmured, then grinned at his fellows. “I’ll bet the old boys considered it just one and the same as this area, eh boys?”
    She rose, hands planted firmly down on the table, and assessed him coolly. Words seemed to spit from her before she took the time to think them out. “You know, I did forget to return your rather backward compliment. Actually, you’re not too bad-looking for a total asshole. You really will excuse me. In truth, none of this, me, my credentials, my job here—is any of your business. I need to discuss matters with Mr. Stone, and no one else.” She allowed her gaze to sweep with disdain over the lot of them and she turned and walked with crisply clicking heels to the door, where she turned back. “By the way, just for your information, the South lost the war. If any of you happen to see Mr. Stone, perhaps you’ll be good enough to let him know that I did come to meet him. I’ll be calling.”
    As she stared at the men, they rose, staring back at her. The most friendly of them, Dimple-face, began to smile.
    â€œWhat?” she demanded.
    â€œOh,” he said, “I think Matt Stone definitely knows you were here.”
    â€œReally?” she grated. “And why is that.”
    Chisel-face spoke up. “Ms. Tremayne, I am Matt Stone.”
    Adam Harrison would have handled it all much better. He would have found a way to be both dignified and smooth. Butof course, if Adam had felt that he’d cast himself into a den of testosterone, he would have had managed to gain respect immediately, no matter what.
    Darcy couldn’t quite diffuse the steam rising in her.
    â€œWell, I’m sorry that I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, since you’ve done nothing but amuse yourself at my expense, Mr. Stone. And if you destroy this opportunity, it won’t hurt me in the least. My employer is the man who deems your house important.”
    With that, she turned, exited, and let the door close behind her.
    Â 
    â€œWell, that was just great!” Mae said from behind the bar.
    Matt set his sunglasses on top of his head and turned to Mae with a challenging look. “Mae, I didn’t know who the hell she was at first, and since it was my understanding Harrison was coming himself, she made me somewhat wary. We don’t need a bunch of crackpots thinking that they can come here and recreate a ‘Blair Witch’ scenario.”
    â€œHe’s right,” Clint said, grinning in a way that made his dimple deep, amusement lighting his eyes. “A goddess walks in—and he sends her out as rudely as possible. Good going, Matt.”
    Clint was Matt’s second cousin, but though he carried the family name, his grandfather had been born on what they called the wrong side of the blanket. Probably a good thing; Clint’s commitment to enjoying life was often entertaining, but Matt was pretty certain that, had the property gone down to Clint, it was unlikely they’d be having this discussion now—the holding would have been long gone. Not because the fields might have fallen prey to plight or disease, but rather to the plague of gambling debt that never seemed to dampen Clint’s spirits.
    Matt looked from Mae to Clint, shaking his head. “Doesn’t the concept of dignity mean anything to the two of you?”
    â€œNot a hell of a lot,” Clint said cheerfully.
    â€œDignity? Do you think you allowed that poor girl to feel that she had any?” Carter asked.
    â€œShe’s accustomed to getting whatever she wants, I imagine,” Matt said with a shrug. “And don’t you tell me about dignity, Carter.” He admitted, only to himself, that he might have been rude—only a bit. But at least with reason. Still, he felt obliged to remind his friend about some of his own behavior. “If I remember correctly, you were so