Kitabı oku: «The Heart Won't Lie», sayfa 3

4

AFTER A COZY half-hour spent eating cake and drinking coffee in Mary Lou’s kitchen with Keri sitting right next to him, Michael’s defenses were down. Circumstances had presented him with rich chocolate, a tempting woman and the prospect of going upstairs with her after they’d finished their dessert. A guy could only take so much before he cracked.

On top of that, he discovered that Mary Lou and Watkins had only been married a year, which explained the friskiness going on between them. Knowing that Mary Lou and Watkins would soon be getting it on didn’t help Michael’s state of mind. They shooed both Keri and Michael out of the kitchen once the dishes were cleared from the table.

That left them little choice but to walk through the silent house and climb the stairs together. The intimacy of it grew with each step they took. Michael made small talk along the way, and Keri responded as if she thought his conversation was brilliant.

She wasn’t fooling him, and he doubted that he was fooling her, either. They were on thin ice, but maybe if they didn’t acknowledge that, they’d get to their respective bedrooms without incident. What a damned inconvenient time to lust after a woman.

They kept up the inane chatter, but the winding staircase seemed endless. She was a step ahead of him, and her scent, a combination of sweet perfume and warm woman, drifted back to him, tugging at his resolve. He considered laying a hand on her shoulder. That might be all it would take.

She’d turn back to him, and then…then he would kiss her. But it wouldn’t stop with a kiss, and he knew that. He’d never made love to a woman on a staircase, and he wasn’t about to do it now. Still, that didn’t keep the images from bombarding him until he was hard and aching.

“Do you want me to dig out the liniment and Epsom salts tonight, so you’ll have them available when you come back from riding tomorrow?”

“Sure.” He shouldn’t have said that. Every extra minute they spent together increased the possibility that one of them might do something that would make them both lose control. He was willing to take that risk if he could be with her a little bit longer.

“I think they’re in your bathroom.” She walked down the hallway, lit only by a small wall sconce.

He followed, all the while lecturing himself to get a grip on his libido. This wasn’t like him. Then again, she wasn’t like any woman he’d met before. She had secrets, and he had to believe they were interesting secrets. Apparently curiosity was a powerful aphrodisiac for him. He hadn’t known that.

Well, then, that was the solution, wasn’t it? If he solved the mystery of Keri Fitzpatrick, he wouldn’t be so attracted to her. He’d planned on searching the internet to see what he could turn up, but asking her outright was really a more honest way to approach it. His questions might be considered intrusive, but if that would keep him from seducing his host’s housekeeper, he felt justified.

She stepped into the bathroom and flipped on the wall switch. “Let’s see what I can find.” Walking over to the sink set into a carved wooden vanity, she began pulling open drawers.

He leaned in the doorway. “It’s none of my business, but wondering why you left Baltimore to come out here and be a housekeeper is driving me crazy.”

“It is?” She glanced up and understanding passed between them without either of them saying a word. His curiosity wasn’t the only thing driving him crazy, and they both knew it. “The answer’s pretty simple,” she said. “I ran away from a scandal.”

“That’s not a simple answer.” And all it did was ratchet his curiosity up a notch.

She gave him a wry smile. “No, I guess not.” Folding her arms, she propped one hip against the vanity. “I was at a New Year’s Eve party at a friend’s penthouse and the champagne was flowing. This cute guy and I were making out in a darkened corner when his fiancée showed up. I didn’t know he was engaged.”

“That was the scandal?” He had a hard time imagining that would create enough gossip to make her leave town.

“No. She threw a drink in my face, so I threw one in hers. She came at me, claws out, wailing like a banshee. My temper got the best of me, and…well, there was smashed crystal, imported caviar ground into the antique rug, a crack in a priceless statue…in other words, an unholy mess.”

Michael tried not to grin, but she’d conjured up quite a picture. He’d only known her a short while, but he sensed the fire in her. She wouldn’t take kindly to being falsely accused. “And here I was impressed that you didn’t faint over a mouse.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m Irish.”

He’d thought learning her secrets would make her less intriguing. Instead, he was more fascinated than ever. “Did you win?”

Triumph shone briefly in her green eyes. Then she sighed. “I did. But in the end, I lost, because I became notorious as the New Year’s Eve Brawler. I couldn’t do my job without the subject coming up. That fight began to define who I was.”

“What’s your profession?”

“PR.”

It figured that she’d be trained in the area that was currently the scourge of his existence.

She pushed away from the vanity. “There you have it, the reason I came out here.” Moving to the other side of the vanity, she opened the top drawer.

“But why be a housekeeper? Why not get another PR job?”

“I just wanted to hide out for a while, do something completely different. The cliché for it is finding yourself. I hadn’t been all that happy with my life in Baltimore, anyway, so this was a chance to explore other options.”

“You came out here without knowing a soul?”

“Yep. That was exciting, in a way. I interviewed for the job here on a whim. I had no experience, but luckily Sarah and Jack took pity on me.” She rummaged in the drawer. “There’s a box wedged in the back of this drawer. It could be the liniment.”

“For the record, Sarah’s thrilled with the job you’re doing.”

“She said that?” Keri reached deep into the drawer and tugged at the box. It was more square than rectangular, which didn’t make sense for a tube of ointment, but she might as well haul it out, anyway.

“She did. She’s very happy with your work, but she also expects you to leave.”

“Which I will, but I’ll give them plenty of time to hire someone else before the boys descend on them next summer.” She yanked at the box. “Got it!” Holding it aloft, she looked at the label.

Michael looked, too, and began to laugh. “That’s not liniment.”

Without meeting his eyes, she tossed the box back in the drawer. “Nope, not liniment.” Her cheeks had turned a becoming shade of rose.

Michael longed to walk over there and kiss her blushing cheeks, her full mouth and her delicate throat. Hell, he’d like to work his way through every tempting spot on her sweet body. Each piece of the puzzle that was Keri Fitzpatrick only made him want to find more so he could complete the picture.

“I’ll keep looking.” She opened the door under the sink and crouched down to peer inside.

“That’s okay.” God, he was a noble SOB. “I may not even need any. We should probably just forget about it and go to bed.”

She gave him a startled glance. “What?”

Oh, Keri. Lust slammed into him. He pushed it back. “Separately.”

“Oh.” She blushed again. “Right.”

“See you in the morning.” He walked out of the bathroom before he changed his mind and closed the short gap between them. Yes, he was nobler than he ever thought he could be.

But once he was inside his room with the door closed, he reflected on what had been in that drawer. Fate had not only thrown the luscious Keri into his path, it had provided him with condoms.

KERI TURNED OFF the bathroom light and retreated to her room. Once there, she flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling until her head stopped buzzing and her heartbeat returned to normal. She’d given herself away. How embarrassing was that?

A woman who wasn’t thinking about sex would never have reacted the way she had when Michael had suggested they go to bed. People said that kind of thing all the time—we should go to bed—and they only meant it was time to turn in. That’s all Michael had been saying, for God’s sake. She was the one who’d made it into something else.

Sure, there was a sexual attraction between them. For the benefit of all concerned, they would ignore that attraction. No good would come of indulging themselves.

Not true, a devilish voice taunted her. Lots of good would come. And you would, too, most likely.

Her groan was spiced with laughter. She’d behaved like a nun ever since taking the job at the Last Chance. A woman living in her employer’s house couldn’t exactly invite guys up to her room. To be honest, she hadn’t met anyone she’d wanted to invite in. Until now.

The whole setup was ridiculous. If she’d met Michael while on some business trip to New York and they’d hit it off this well, she would have considered a sexual relationship. Maybe not tonight, because that was a bit fast. Tomorrow night wouldn’t have been out of the question.

But they weren’t in New York. They were across the hall from each other in the Chance family’s ranch house, where she was an employee and Michael was a guest. No matter which way she sliced it, that put him off-limits.

So she should be patient. He would leave at the end of the week, and she would leave in a couple of months. She’d get his contact information and give him hers. If the chemistry between them was more than a passing fancy they could get together later, once the barriers had been removed.

Since they were from similar backgrounds, and apparently had both yearned for a more unfettered lifestyle out West, they’d probably have many traits in common. She admired him for throwing himself into this setting with no experience. That took guts, and she appreciated a man with courage. Yes, he’d be worth tracking down later on.

Figuring out that a possible hookup was being postponed, not abandoned, should have made her feel less frustrated, but it didn’t. Blowing out a breath, she levered herself off the bed and changed into her pajamas. Then she washed her face and brushed her teeth.

Unfortunately, she spent all that time straining to hear Michael moving around in his room. At one point she caught the sound of footsteps in the hall. Like a teenager with a crush, she pressed her ear to the door.

He went into the bathroom and closed the door. Calling herself crazy, she listened until he came out and started back down the hall. He paused, and she held her breath. What would she do if he knocked on her door?

She had two choices—to answer it, which might lead to the forbidden pleasures she dreamed of, or to ignore it, which was the wisest course of action and sounded dismal and sad. But he took the choice away from her by continuing into his room and closing the door. Damn.

With nothing exciting on the horizon, she climbed into bed and picked up the paperback by Jim Ford lying on her nightstand. One of the ranch hands she’d dated last fall had loaned her a Jim Ford Western to help teach her about ranch life.

She’d never read that kind of book before, and it had helped her feel more at home here. She’d liked the story, too. She’d ordered all of the Jim Ford books online, which had given her a stack of more than twenty.

Her nightly reading habit was her little secret, her stealth method of taking a crash course in all things Western. After going through them once, she’d started over, which probably qualified her as a fan.

She’d nearly finished this one, Showdown at the Wildcat Saloon, for the second time. Within twenty minutes she’d arrived at the last page. The good guys won, the bad guys lost and the cowboy hero ended up with the girl. The plot was more complicated than that, but the structure was similar in all the books.

That worked for Keri. She liked knowing the stories would turn out well, and the details about cowboys and ranch life had taught her many things she might not have learned otherwise. The hands at the Last Chance were too busy being cowboys to stop and explain the process to a transplant from Baltimore, but Jim Ford did a fine job.

Her only complaint was that the love scenes weren’t hot enough to suit her. Maybe Western writers weren’t expected to have spicy romance in their books, but she would have liked more sizzle. She’d considered writing to tell him so, but hadn’t taken the time.

After finishing the current book, she glanced at the author photo on the inside back cover of the paperback. In it, Jim Ford leaned against the weathered side of a barn. She knew the photo well after seeing it in twentysome books.

But tonight it reminded her of someone else. When she’d stared at the picture for a few minutes and couldn’t place where she’d seen the guy, she turned out the light and slid down under the covers.

Lying there quietly, she could hear noises from Michael’s room—the sound of his booted feet on the wooden floor, followed by the clump of the boots as he pulled them off and dropped them. She imagined him undressing, and then stopped imagining it. A sexual buzz right now wasn’t going to help matters any.

Surely he was exhausted by now. He’d flown eastto-west, so his body clock was probably out of whack. It was much later for him than for everyone else on the ranch.

But he wasn’t going to bed. Instead, he turned on his laptop. That chime was unmistakable. If Jack had given him the ranch’s Wi-Fi password, he could be checking his email. Or his portfolio.

Though she’d told him a lot about her life tonight, she was woefully ignorant of his, other than Jack mentioning that he was loaded. He could have inherited his money or earned it himself. She had no idea which.

Usually a person gave some indication if they had a job. They’d reference it somehow, but Michael had been curiously mum on the subject. So maybe he lived off his investments, or his parents’ investments. She’d known plenty of people who did that.

She could choose that route herself, but she wouldn’t. Now that she knew what hard work was, she’d discovered that she liked it. She enjoyed ending the day feeling pleasantly tired and satisfied with what she’d accomplished.

When she left this job, she’d continue to cook and clean for herself, at least most of the time. She didn’t want to lose her newly acquired skills. The life she used to have, with minions handling every routine maintenance task, had lost its appeal.

Sleep began to pull her under, but in that hazy moment before she drifted off, she realized who Jim Ford reminded her of. Michael. The two men looked very much alike, except Michael was clean-shaven and Jim Ford had a mustache. Talk about a crazy coincidence. Michael Hartford knew nothing about being a cowboy, and Jim Ford was an expert on the subject.

Maybe she should loan Michael a few of her Jim Ford books. They might help him the way they’d helped her. Jack’s lessons were all well and good, but Jim Ford provided the lingo. Michael also might get a kick out of knowing that if he grew a mustache, he could impersonate a well-known Western writer.

Tomorrow she’d leave a book in his room, along with a note to check out the author photo on the inside back cover. That should make him laugh.

5

BY LATE MORNING on the following day, Michael was hating life, and he hadn’t even made it out of the corral. If he’d had some image of galloping across a meadow on Day One, he could kiss that fantasy goodbye. He’d spent at least an hour, probably longer, learning to saddle and unsaddle his assigned horse, Destiny.

Destiny had stood patiently while Michael practiced over and over under Jack’s supervision. Mastering the bridle application had taken another big chunk of time. Jack had insisted, and legitimately so, that a rider needed to know these basics before climbing aboard. Jack was also a perfectionist in this regard. No student of his would get away with sloppy habits. No, sir.

Michael couldn’t very well bitch about Jack’s exacting attitude, either. The guy was offering his house and his services for free, out of the goodness of his heart. If Michael had been paying him, the dynamics would have been different, but under this program Michael kept his mouth shut.

Lack of sleep hadn’t helped his concentration any, either. He’d planned to work on his current manuscript for an hour or so the previous night because his deadline loomed. Usually, working helped him wind down, except the chapter he’d faced had included—of course—a love scene.

He’d thought about Keri while he wrote the blasted thing, so by the end of the writing session the scene had been hotter than he usually made them. And he’d been equally hot. At least he’d finished the chapter and could move on to some action sequences tonight.

That was assuming he could sit long enough to type. The first portion of the actual riding part hadn’t been bad—getting the horse to walk and then putting on the brakes. But then had come the torturous gait called the trot.

Michael had circled the corral endlessly while Destiny jolted every bone in his body. How naively Michael had written trotting into his manuscripts over the years. His characters were constantly trotting their horses here, there and everywhere.

His characters were also experienced riders who had somehow learned how to sit in the saddle without bouncing like a teenager on a trampoline. Michael wondered how in hell they’d accomplished that feat. Jack kept telling him to sit back and just move with the horse. Yeah, right. He wondered if a construction worker just moved with his jackhammer.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about being tempted by the lovely housekeeper. After today, his privates would be out of commission. He might not be in shape to have sex for a month.

“Okay, slow him down,” Jack called out from his perch on the corral fence. “Walk him around a couple of times and we’ll call it quits for now and head in to lunch.”

Lunchtime meant seeing Keri again. Despite feeling achy and chafed, he brightened at that prospect. As he walked Destiny through the gate Jack held open, he thought about Keri’s expression last night when she’d reached into the vanity drawer and pulled out a box of condoms. She’d been flustered and cute as the dickens.

“That’s what I like to see after a trotting session,” Jack said. “A big ol’ smile on your face. You’ll be happy to know we’ll work on that gait some more after lunch. You’re better, but still not good enough.”

Michael hadn’t realized he’d been smiling, but Jack’s comment sobered him up real quick. “How about trying some roping instead? You know, switch things up a little.”

“Yeah, but you’re so close on the trot!” Jack turned to fasten the gate. “Another hour or so and you’ll have it down!”

Another hour or so and he’d be in traction. “Maybe so, but I’d rather spend some time roping. I have a scene coming up in the next chapter where the hero ropes the villain. I’ll probably do a better job with it if I’ve thrown a rope myself.”

“You’re working on something now?” Jack walked beside him as they headed toward the barn.

“I am. That’s why I brought my laptop, so I could write while I’m here.”

“Well, that’s just special. I hadn’t thought about you actually writing while you stayed here. I might need to get a plaque for the door of that room after you leave.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Michael pulled the horse to a stop at the hitching post.

“No, not really. But I wouldn’t do it because you want these lessons to be hush-hush. By the way, you can climb down from there anytime, now.”

“Oh. Okay.” Michael felt a little shaky and hoped to hell he didn’t fall off.

“Left side, Hartford. Left side.”

“Um, yeah. I was thinking about something else.” He put his foot back in the left stirrup and eased his right foot free.

“Don’t let yourself think about something else when you’re working around horses, my friend. You’re dealing with a thousand-pound animal. Anything can happen.”

“Anything?” Michael thought Jack said things like that mostly to scare him. Clenching his jaw against the pain in his thigh muscles, he swung down from the saddle. He’d be damned if he’d let out a groan.

“Absolutely anything.” Jack wore his dark glasses and his black Stetson, which made him look like a badass. “Death, dismemberment, you name it.”

“That really makes me want to get back on old Destiny.”

“Ah, I’m just having a little fun. You’re safer on him than you are walking down the streets of New York City. But I’ll bet you stay alert there.”

“I do.”

“That’s really all there is to it. Be vigilant when you’re around horses. Don’t be scared. Be aware. Destiny’s calm, but no telling what kind of horse you’ll end up with for the photo shoot. Some horses spook at a blowing scrap of paper.”

“It’s good advice. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t want you getting killed.” He grinned. “Aside from my concern for you as a fellow human being, I’d miss out on more Jim Ford books.”

“You’re all heart, Jack.”

“So they tell me.” He gestured toward Destiny. “Take off his saddle, and we’ll have a short lesson in grooming before we turn him loose in the pasture. We’ll rope this afternoon if that’s what floats your boat.”

Thank God. “I appreciate that.”

“I suppose you’ll need to rope somebody, if that’s what you’ll be writing about.”

“A post will do fine. I don’t need to actually—”

“Oh, I think you do. For authenticity’s sake.”

Michael glanced at him. “Are you volunteering?”

“Hell, no. I’ll volunteer one of the ranch hands. Tell me how big your villain is, and I’ll find somebody that size.”

“He’s about your height.”

“Hmm. Okay. Maybe Jeb, then.”

“How are you planning to explain this little exercise without telling him I’m a writer?”

Jack gazed at him. “I see your point. We don’t generally rope people around here. Jeb might very well question what we were up to.” He sighed. “Guess I’ll have to do it, after all.”

“You don’t have to. A post will work.”

“No, it won’t. There’s a world of difference between roping a post and roping a man. I want you to get it right.”

“Okay.” Michael worked hard to keep from smiling. “If you insist.” His day was looking up.

He followed Jack’s instructions and brushed Destiny’s glossy coat before turning him loose in the pasture. Destiny seemed as glad to be free of Michael as Michael was to be through with Destiny, at least for today. Michael looked at the experience from Destiny’s perspective and realized that having a beginner rider bouncing on your backbone might not feel so good.

Following Jack’s lead, Michael washed his hands and face in the deep sink located inside the barn. As they walked up to the ranch house, Michael felt almost like a cowboy. His clothes were dusty, he smelled of horse and he walked slightly bowlegged thanks to his riding lesson.

Like Jack, he kept his hat on as they mounted the steps, crossed the covered porch and went through the massive front door. On the way down the hall he pulled the brim a bit lower. Yeah. He was getting into this. He wondered if Keri would notice the difference.

KERI HAD a basket of hot rolls in each hand when Jack and Michael strode into the dining room. And they were definitely striding, not merely walking. Jack had always had that cocky way of moving, and now Michael had picked it up.

She was mesmerized by the sight of Michael, who obviously was in the process of getting his cowboy on. She’d promised herself to stop mooning over him, but how could she help it if he ramped up his sexy quotient when she wasn’t looking? He even wore his hat with more authority. He’d spent the morning with a powerful horse between his legs, and she knew from her year at the ranch that riding could turn a regular guy into a conquering hero.

His gaze found hers and he smiled. Wow, did he ever look like Jim Ford when he did that. She’d left the book in his room, but he might not see it until this afternoon when he was finished working with Jack.

After returning his smile, she snapped out of her daze and delivered the rolls to two of the tables. Then she walked back into the kitchen. The ranch hands were hungry and she couldn’t dawdle. Platters of fried chicken and bowls of potato salad and coleslaw sat on the counter. Mary Lou opened the large commercial oven and took out the first of the apple pies.

She set it on the only vacant space left on the counter and glanced at Keri. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted.”

“I’m fine. Sorry for the delay.” She picked up two platters of chicken and hurried out the door. Mary Lou had come to depend on her to serve lunch, and unless she moved the main course out, no counter space was available for dessert.

Sarah used to help, but she’d done less as Keri took over her duties. This week Sarah was so involved with wedding plans that she wouldn’t have been much use, anyway. Both the ceremony and the reception would take place at the ranch, and the details surrounding that production were endless.

Once Keri was back in the dining room, she couldn’t help noticing where Michael had ended up. He and Jack had chosen the table where the ranch foreman, Emmett Sterling, sat with his daughter, Emily—who would be foreman someday—and her husband Clay Whitaker, who ran the stud program for the Last Chance. Four ranch hands rounded out the eight-place table.

Michael fit right in. The clothes he’d paid to have distressed were a little dirty from being out in the corral, which gave them more legitimacy. He joked with the people at the table as if he’d been part of this world forever. Not every city boy could pull that off, but Michael seemed to be a natural at it. Maybe he didn’t need to read the Jim Ford books, after all.

She approached his table with a platter of chicken and a bowl of potato salad. The ranch hands ate family style and passed the serving dishes around. In fact, lunch at the Last Chance had always seemed like a big family gathering to Keri, and she loved the idea that everyone was on equal footing here.

She wasn’t treated as a waitress, which meant she could pause beside Michael’s chair and ask him how the morning went.

“Great.” He gave her another one of those smiles that made him look like Jim Ford without the mustache. “Jack’s teaching me a lot.”

“Good. By the way, I left a book in your room, something that you might enjoy. I put it on your nightstand.”

“Thanks. What is it?”

“A Western by Jim Ford. It’s the perfect thing to read while you’re here.”

Michael must have swallowed wrong at that moment, because he launched into a coughing fit. One of the ranch hands got up and pounded him on the back while Jack offered him a glass of water. Keri stood and waited for the fit to be over, because she couldn’t simply walk away as if she didn’t care that he was choking. He wasn’t turning blue, so she wasn’t terribly worried, but it was a spectacular fit, all the same.

At last he settled down, took off his hat and wiped his eyes. “Sorry about that.” He looked up at her. “Thanks for loaning me the book.”

“I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Well, I need to get back to the kitchen.” She turned to go, but not before she caught a look passing between Michael and Jack. She didn’t have time to interpret it because not everyone had food, and hungry cowboys looked forward to this meal. For many of them it was the highlight of their day.

Much later, after the pie had been devoured with many words of praise for Mary Lou’s cooking, the ranch hands began filing out of the dining room. Keri was clearing the dishes when Jack approached. Michael wasn’t with him.

“I didn’t know you were a Jim Ford fan,” he said.

“I am. Jeb loaned me one of his books and I’ve been hooked ever since.” She decided this was the perfect time to talk about the mouse incident. “About that mouse. I probably shouldn’t have made a stand in front of a guest. I apologize.”

Jack waved a hand dismissively. “You were right to give those boys the benefit of the doubt. I’m too cynical sometimes.”

“You could be right, too. It might have been an elaborate joke.”

“It doesn’t matter. The mouse has been decently interred.” Jack shoved his hat back with his thumb. “How long have you been reading Jim Ford?”

“Since last October. I ordered every book that was available. They helped me understand ranch culture and I thought maybe they’d help Michael, too.” She paused. “You know what’s amazing? Michael actually looks like the picture of Jim Ford in the back of his books, except for the mustache. Is that wild or what?”

Jack opened his mouth as if to say something, but he closed it again. “Yes,” he said at last. “I noticed that, too. Weird, huh?”

“Yes, totally weird.” But she’d seen something in Jack’s eyes that made her start to wonder. Michael couldn’t possibly be Jim Ford. Considering Jim Ford’s expertise, that made no sense.

Yet something was up. She could sense it. Jack and Michael had exchanged that significant glance at the table, as if they shared some kind of secret. She began weaving all kinds of scenarios. What if the real Jim Ford was an ugly old man who didn’t photograph well? What if he’d asked Michael to masquerade as Jim Ford, and now Michael had to learn some ranch skills to make the charade believable?

She decided to keep her eyes and ears open. If that meant keeping tabs on Michael Hartford, so be it. That wouldn’t be a hardship at all.