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  She frowned at Dr. Montgomery’s back. His questions were beginning to bother her. He was making her wonder what Taylor had planned for them. She knew when the wedding was to be—when Taylor felt she was ready and not before. And at the rate she was going in doing what he wanted her to do with Dr. Montgomery, she was never going to be ready to be married.

  She walked just behind him the rest of the way into town and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the limousine waiting in front of the Opera House. But to her chagrin, Dr. Montgomery turned away from the car. “Here it is,” she called, hoping that perhaps he just hadn’t seen it.

  He ignored her and kept walking toward a restaurant. Amanda dodged two old Ford pickups and crossed the street after him. He had to go back to the ranch for luncheon because she had to pick up the schedule for the afternoon.

  At the restaurant, he held the door open for her.

  “Luncheon will be waiting for us at home,” she said.

  “Why drive all the way back there? Besides, it might do you good to eat somewhere else.” He firmly took her arm and led her inside the cool restaurant, where the smell of years of meals permeated the place.

  Amanda couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten out. It had been here with her mother and she had been wearing white gloves. A waitress handed them menus and Amanda read of rolled fillets of veal, rib roasts, leg of lamb and stuffed chicken breasts. The selection made her mouth water, but she knew there was nothing of which Taylor would approve.

  She put the menu down.

  “Made up your mind already?” Hank asked.

  “I’m not eating here.”

  Angrily, he slapped his menu down on the table. “What is it you have against food with flavor? Or is it that you’re too good to eat in a public place?”

  Again, that little feeling of anger rose in her. “It is neither. It is just that I do not wish to get fat.”

  He gaped at her, openmouthed. “Fat? You’d have to gain twenty pounds to be considered thin.” He picked up her menu and handed it to her. “I’m your guest and you’re supposed to keep me happy, remember? I want you to eat.”

  She felt very frustrated. She wasn’t supposed to get fat; Taylor didn’t like fat women. But, too, Taylor wanted her to entertain Dr. Montgomery. Only Dr. Montgomery didn’t like museums or tours of the ranch or healthy food. He liked to talk to women in parks and hold children, and walk, and eat. He seemed to like eating best of all.

  Amanda tried to choose the least fattening thing on the menu, but when the waitress came, Dr. Montgomery chose for her: chicken breasts stuffed with creamed spinach, spiced peaches, sage dressing, watercress salad, yeast rolls and butter.

  “Miss Caulden,” he said, “if I swear not to run away or interfere in your father’s business, tomorrow could we spare each other our company?”

  “I…I don’t know,” she answered. What would Taylor say? She was to go with Dr. Montgomery to see where he went. But she was also supposed to make him like the Cauldens and she wasn’t doing very well at that, was she? Taylor said he would be in awe of their house and ranch, but so far nothing seemed to awe him. She didn’t know what to do. “Do you have any plans of your own?” she asked. Maybe he meant to stay at the house.

  “I want to get in my car and drive. After that, I have no idea what I want to do.” Except get away from this woman who unsettled him and made him alternately nervous and angry.

  Amanda felt a moment of panic. Taylor would be angry if he went away by himself. “Would you possibly like to read tomorrow? If I repulse you I’m sure I could occupy myself elsewhere.”

  Damn, damn, damn, he thought. Honey, you don’t repulse me. You drive me crazy. That hair of yours. Those big, sad eyes. That body that would be real nice with some meat on it. How could the interior of such a beautiful package be so awful?

  “I do have some essays to grade and some letters to write,” he said at last. “I’ll stick around the house tomorrow.”

  She looked so relieved that he thought she might cry, and just for an instant he thought that she might get into trouble if he didn’t do what she wanted. But that couldn’t be. She was an ice lady or she wouldn’t have fallen for stone-faced Driscoll. They were a perfect match. Maybe they made love to each other by reading love sonnets aloud.

  The waitress put their plates of food on the table, and the expression on Amanda’s face made Hank smile.

  “You look like you’re about to worship it rather than eat it. Dig in. Enjoy.”

  It had been years since Amanda had eaten food like this. Taylor said the body was a temple and must be treated with reverence, therefore it was not to be filled with unhealthy, greasy food.

  Her first bite was heaven, absolute, sheer heaven. She closed her eyes and chewed and let the flavor roll about in her mouth.

  Hank looked up from his plate to see Amanda with her eyes closed and wearing an expression that he had only seen on a woman’s face when he was making love to her. He dropped his fork and her eyes flew open.

  “Like”—his voice broke—“like the food?”

  “Yes, thank you, I do.”

  She went back to eating, her eyes open, thank God, but Hank had a little trouble swallowing. Calm down, Montgomery, he told himself. She’s just a pretty girl, that’s all. You came here to talk to the union leaders, not get yourself in trouble like you did with Blythe Woodley.

  “Miss Caulden, could you tell me a little about Kingman?”

  Like a little box that you put a nickel in, she began to spout facts. She told about the five railroad tracks (one main one and four sidings) and the seven mail deliveries a day. She told about the Digger Indians, the Spanish land grants, the copper mines. She told about the Donner Party arriving just east of Kingman at the Johnson Ranch and she rattled off facts and dates about the rescue parties and the number of survivors and deaths. She told of dates when the town flooded and when it was burned down. She told of dams built, bridges built. She gave numbers of population, dates schools built, dates—

  “Stop!” he said, gasping for air. She was a wind-up toy that never ran down, but at least his ardor was cooled. Taylor Driscoll could have her. She was all looks and nothing else. “Eat your cherry pie,” he said, pushing the plate toward her. He smiled at the way she cleaned her plate. For someone who was worried about getting fat, she sure could pack it away.

  Chapter Five

  Taylor Driscoll stood behind the desk in the library staring intently out the window toward the front of the house. He looked at his watch again. 2:13. Where was she? He had given her a schedule this morning and she was to return by noon, so why was she over two hours late?

  He looked at his watch again. 2:14. Still no sign of the car. Damn her! he thought. Damn her for making him feel like this. He cursed her and he cursed himself for caring so much. He’d sworn long ago that he’d never love another woman—women were too untrust-worthy. They said they loved you and then they deserted you.

  As he stared out the window he seemed to be transported back to his childhood when he used to stand by the window and wait for his mother to come home. She’d come staggering up the steps, two young men holding her up, her red-dyed hair frothy about her face, her big breasts heaving, her fat hips swaying, with a man now and then squeezing an ample buttock and making her laugh raucously. Young Taylor used to watch as his father, who always waited up for his wife, came out the front door and helped her inside. The young men would make taunting remarks to Mr. Driscoll but he never seemed to hear them.

  Taylor would leave the window and go back to bed, but he’d lie there, his little fists clenched at his sides, and hate both his parents: her for being the fat, loud, stupid, uncaring woman she was and him for being refined, educated, and for stupidly loving this unworthy woman.

  Taylor spent every moment he had reading and studying, trying to get away from his mother, who lolled about on a sofa and ate chocolates and never lifted a finger to help manage the household servants or even to talk to the chil