by Cathie Linz
When Pam walked out, the twins had been a little over a year old. Just starting to walk and talk. And they’d been walking and talking nonstop ever since.
He’d never forget the pain in his kids’ eyes when they first realized that other kids had a mom, while theirs had run off on them. They had no memory of Pam at all. Yet when she had died in a car accident last year, he’d seen in their eyes the loss of a dream he hadn’t even been sure they’d had. The dream of having a mom.
The only good thing Pam had done was give him the twins—and teach him the lesson that this ranch was no place for a city girl, even one born and raised in Colorado. It was certainly no place for a silky blond from Chicago, a city that made Denver look puny.
Zane was in no rush to get married again, but he did aim on getting hitched one day. And when he did, it would be with someone like him, someone who had been raised with this kind of life. Not an outsider.
Muttering a curse, Zane tossed another shovelful of manure and straw into the wheelbarrow. Usually he had one of the ranch hands do this chore, but today he needed reminding of his roots and the deep pile of manure he’d be in if he got mixed up with a satin-covered city girl like Tracy.
ZANE HAD BEEN IGNORING her all day, but Tracy finally tracked him down in the barn. He’d left the dinner table before dessert, as if her chocolate cake was something to be afraid of. Actually the box cake had turned out fairly well, with simple mixing instructions that even she didn’t mess up.
She’d brought him a piece of cake and planned on talking to him about the twins.
It was actually her first time in a barn. She’d seen them on TV of course. But you couldn’t smell your TV screen, so you missed the sweetness of fresh hay and the warm smell of horses.
The evening was getting cool and twilight brought with it that magical light that, while pretty, made it hard to see.
She paused to get her bearings when, the next thing she knew, someone made a grab for her derriere!
Startled, she turned around only to discover that the culprit was a horse.
“I’ve got enough problems without a horse trying to get fresh,” she muttered, taking several hurried steps away.
She’d never seen a horse laugh before, but she was convinced this one was doing just that as it shook its head and mane while making funny snorting noises.
“Very funny, buster. Just keep your nose or whatever to yourself.”
Horses were in stalls on both sides. She tried not to jump as a horse on her right stomped its foot, or was it hoof? The chocolate cake on the plate she held slid dangerously to the side, but she managed to save it in time.
Continuing down the center aisle, she squinted into the gloom. Wasn’t that Zane’s shirt hanging from a nail near the back of the barn?
He was in the last stall, using a pitchfork to distribute a thick bed of fresh straw on the ground. He looked like the epitome of a cowboy, his bare chest and back displaying lean rippling muscle, while his lower torso was looking good in snug denim jeans.
“I...uhm,” she cleared her throat. “I brought you something.”
She no sooner got the words out than she felt something wet and cold and big smack her elbow, jostling the arm and hand holding the cake. Yelping in surprise, she leaned forward to catch the dessert before it slid off the plate. All that did was make her lose her balance and plow smack into Zane, who’d turned to face her and see what all the commotion was about.
Zane barely had time to toss the pitchfork out of the way before Tracy toppled him onto the bed of hay he’d just spread.
Tracy didn’t know where the plate or the cake ended up. All she knew was that she was plastered against Zane, her breasts pressed against his bare chest, her left leg resting between his legs.
It was as if they were back in her bedroom again, heat flaring between them with instant fire. His heart was pounding beneath her, matching the throbbing within her.
Lifting her nose from the hollow above his collarbone, she tried to apologize for plastering herself against him like plastic wrap. But before she could get the words out, he kissed her.
5
TRACY’S LIPS were still parted when his mouth captured hers. There was no teasing introduction, no awkward pause or bumping of noses, just unadulterated hunger. He took her breath away.
Sliding his fingers through her hair, Zane linked them at the back of her head, his large work-roughened hands cradling her as he angled her mouth just so, ensuring even more sultry tongue fluttering. He tasted like the coffee he’d had with his meal.
Where had he learned to kiss like this? She was stunned, awed. She was inspired to kiss him back just as impressively.
It must have worked, because a moment later he rolled over so that he blanketed her. The change in position changed the kiss, for the better. Now he could nibble his way around her lower lip before devouring her mouth.
He flicked the tip of his tongue across the roof of her mouth in a move that should have been ticklish but was instead wildly seductive. Keeping one hand cupped behind her head, he slid the other one down the side of her neck, his fingertips brushing the line of her jaw on his way...where? She couldn’t tell where he’d touch her next, and there were so many places on her body that ached for his touch.
His kisses kept her distracted as he moved his hand ever so slowly from the base of her throat, over the slick material of her blouse to her breast. He didn’t grab her or boldly fondle her. All he did was graze her nipple with the ball of his thumb.
It was enough to make her insides melt and flow like hot honey. He did it again, this time adding a flick of his tongue to their kiss as she moaned into his mouth and eagerly responded with a few clever feminine thrusts of her own.
That first kiss had turned into many as their embrace became even more intimate, the roll of his hips making his arousal plain. He shifted again, reversing their positions so that she was once again draped against him. His hands were beneath her blouse now, having tugged it from the waistband of her jeans. Hers were all over his bare chest. He’d tugged her blouse up and had just undone her bra when Tracy felt heavy breathing on the bare small of her back followed by another wet nudge that most definitely didn’t come from the man beneath her.
Lifting her lips from Zane’s, she yelped. Startled, Zane dumped her off his chest and into the hay.
When she rolled onto her back, she stared up at a huge horse’s head. It was just about nose to nose with her and looked as if it wanted to get closer to do more than just nibble on her.
“Stop that, Bashful,” Zane growled, his dark hair ruffled and his hat nowhere to be found. It took her a second to realize she’d been the one who’d ruffled his hair when she’d run her fingers through it.
What had she been thinking of? This man was her employer. Scooting into the far corner of the stall, she stared at Zane with a mixture of dismay and lingering passion. He was looking at her in exactly the same way.
“That never happened,” Zane said, his voice curt as he got to his feet, creating more distance between them.
“The horse startled me,” she began when he interrupted her.
“That kiss never happened. It was a big mistake.”
Tracy had never been a big mistake before and she didn’t like it.
Zane welcomed the flash of anger he saw in her green eyes. It was better than the sexy warmth he’d seen in them a moment or two before. “Look, I already got burned by a city girl, my ex-wife. This time around I’m looking for a plain-Jane woman with no career aspirations, one who’ll make my kids her top priority, one who is rock solid. You don’t fulfill any of those qualifications,” he ended bluntly.
Tracy was glad the pitchfork was at the other end of the stall, otherwise she might have been tempted to use it on him. “It was just a kiss.” Okay, so that was a lie, but this next bit was the truth. “I can assure you that I’m no more eager to enter into a relationship with you than you are with me. After all, I’ve just broken off my engagement
because, among other things, I caught my fiancé cheating on me. That’s why I wanted to get away from Chicago for a while. Not to have a roll in the hay with an arrogant son of a...buck!” Scrambling to her feet, she brushed the hair and straw out of her eyes before fixing him with a chilling look. ‘This incident is already forgotten.” She stomped out of the stall, marching through the missing chocolate cake as she did so, but not stopping for one instant. She considered herself lucky that all she’d lost in the episode was another pair of shoes. It could have been much worse.
Despite her words, it wasn’t easy for Tracy to forget their kiss. Anger carried her back to the ranch house, where she kicked off her ruined chocolatecovered shoes in the mudroom at the back of the house. How dare Zane kiss her like that and then act as if it was all her fault.
“Did you talk to Pa?” Rusty asked the minute Tracy entered the kitchen.
“Your father has the brains of a mule. No, that’s probably not fair to a mule. He has the brains of a tick on a mule!”
Rusty’s eyes bulged at the sight of her in a high temper. Lucky was equally not impressed. “Don’t you insult our pa!” The little girl put both hands on her hips and glared at Tracy. “He’s the smartest man in the universe. He knows lots more than you do.”
“What’s going on in here?” Buck demanded. “I could hear yelling clear in the front parlor. How’s a man supposed to enjoy a John Wayne movie with all this caterwauling in here?”
“We don’t have a cat,” Rusty said, frowning in confusion.
“He means noise,” Tracy translated.
“She was yelling,” Lucky said, pointing an accusing finger at Tracy. “She said Pa has the brains of a tick.”
“Oh-ho, she did, did she?” Buck’s look was speculative. “I wonder what my oldest son of a buck has gone and done now. You care to elaborate, missy?”
Tracy primly shook her head. She’d said enough as it was. “Anybody want some homemade lemonade?” Without waiting for an answer, Tracy grabbed a glass pitcher and headed for the fridge, where she grabbed a handful of lemons and slammed them into the juice extractor she’d brought with her. It had been a wedding gift. Since it had come from a friend of hers, she’d taken it with her when she’d left.
“Try and keep things to a low roar out here,” Buck suggested before returning to his movie.
Left alone with the twins, she poured sugar into the glass pitcher filled with lemon juice and water. No need for bottled water out here. Zane had told her that their water was spring fed. He’d also just told her that she wasn’t rock solid, thereby implying she was a flighty idiot.
She’d mixed the drink so much that it had a foamy head on it as she poured some into glasses for the kids. After taking one sip, Rusty made a face and proclaimed, “You make lemonade like a city girl.”
“City girls don’t make lemonade, they buy it,” Tracy retorted.
“You...” Rusty paused as a giant bubble formed on his parted lips. A soap bubble.
Uh-oh. Tracy belatedly realized that she must not have rinsed all the dishwashing soap from the pitcher when she’d washed it. Grabbing the lemonade away from Rusty and Lucky, she quickly emptied the glasses down the drain.
One sip of slightly soapy lemonade wouldn’t hurt Rusty, right? In the old days, parents used to wash their kid’s mouth out with soap when they were bad. But they didn’t have them swallow it.
Should she call a poison-control center? No, she was overreacting here. It’s not as if they drank the dishwashing soap, only a small residue of it greatly distilled by the water and lemonade.
“You were supposed to go out to the barn and talk to Pa about his spending more time with us, not poison us.” Lucky’s outraged words were accompanied by an affronted expression.
“I didn’t poison you,” Tracy denied, trying not to give in to the guilt just waiting to swamp her. She should have known that bubbles weren’t supposed to form on top of lemonade. “And your father was busy, but I will talk to him.” If I don’t sock him first.
“Are you leaving?” Rusty belligerently asked Tracy.
“No.” She frowned at him even as she made fresh lemonade, being very careful to rinse the pitcher thoroughly before using it again. “I already told you I was staying.”
“Our mother left. She’s dead,” Rusty said out of the blue. “She didn’t want us. She left us behind when we were just babies.” His words were spoken with such a bald matter-of-factness that Tracy’s instinctive response of denying them died in her throat.
“But that’s okay because our pa wants us twice as much,” Lucky quickly added.
“I can tell your father loves you both very much,” Tracy said huskily.
“And we love him lots and lots. We don’t need no one else. We don’t need you here.”
Lucky’s defiant stance vividly reminded Tracy of how she’d reacted when her own parents had died in a car crash. She’d been determined to prove she was strong enough to go on alone. Like the twins, she hadn’t thought she’d needed any help. And just like the twins, she’d been bluffing, hiding her fears behind a blustery bravado.
Aunt Maeve had sensed that and had swept into Tracy’s life, ignoring Tracy’s reserve and offering her love, warmth and friendship.
Oh, yeah, she knew exactly how the twins felt. They might not want her there, but they most certainly did need her.
TRACY WAS BEAT by the time she headed upstairs but she felt a sense of satisfaction that the kitchen was in order. She’d found a place for all the kitchen gadgets she’d brought—the juice extractor, the bread maker, the cappuccino machine. At least her wedding gifts would come in handy for something. She’d given the room a thorough cleaning, from the wooden cabinets right down to the black-and-white checked linoleum floor.
Zane had remained out in the barn the entire time. The twins had gone to join Buck in watching the John Wayne movie. Rusty had returned to the kitchen to grab a bag of potato chips, but that had been it. Tracy had worked alone, but she’d worked quickly and gotten a lot done.
Now her body was paying for it, her muscles aching from the workout. Not to mention the additional activity of rolling in the hay with Zane out in the barn.
Since the twins had told her about their mother’s desertion and subsequent death, Tracy could better understand Zane’s outburst. It couldn’t have been easy on him, raising the twins on his own with only his father’s help.
Enough soul-searching. What she really needed was a long hot soak in a bath. She had the water running and had already taken off her clothes when she realized she’d forgotten her nightgown in her room. Tugging on her robe, she opened the bathroom door, checking to make sure no one was around. She could still hear the noises of the twins and Buck and their movie coming from downstairs.
Her room was right across the hallway. Moving quickly, she grabbed her nightie from beneath her pillow—checking for Joe, the mouse, just in case. Then she returned to the bathroom, unaware that she was no longer the only resident.
ZANE WAS ALREADY on his way upstairs when he heard Tracy scream and came running, his boots pounding up the stairway. He found her in the bathroom, leaning against the door frame, holding her sides and laughing hysterically.
Not sure what in hades was going on, Zane said, “Are you okay? Why did you scream like that?”
She pointed a shaking finger. “There’s an iguana on the toilet seat.”
He should have guessed that a tenderfoot like her would be afraid of a little lizard. “It’s just King.”
“I didn’t know the kids had a pet iguana. Or that it was toilet trained.”
“They don’t. King belongs to my dad.”
“And your father toilet-trained his iguana?”
“Yeah,” he said defensively, accustomed as he was to the previous housekeepers’ dislike of King. “What about it?”
“My father would be so jealous,” she said almost wistfully.
He figured she was babbling, because she sure wasn’t making much se
nse to him. What did her father have to do with an iguana?
“My father worked at the reptile house at Brookfield Zoo in Chicago. He passed away when I was seventeen, both my parents did. A car accident. But he loved snakes and lizards. We always had them around the house. But he never had a toilet-trained iguana. I’m impressed.”
“Then why did you scream?”
“I wasn’t expecting to see him there. I was running my bath and realized I’d left my nightgown in my room.”
Which meant she was wearing nothing under the robe she had on. The robe was the same satiny material her nightgown had been and it clung to her body the same way.
Tracy had curves in all the right places. He already knew that her breasts fit his hands as if made for them. And that she smelled like some kind of fruit, something exotic like those Hollywood types ate for breakfast. Mango or papaya or coconut.
He was nuts to be staring at her like a starving hound. But he couldn’t seem to look away. His gaze was fixed like adhesive to the shadowy curve of her cleavage, impressively displayed by the neckline of her robe. He wasn’t sure that she knew how much skin was showing, and he should probably tell her. In a minute.
Whoa, cowboy. The warning sounded in his brain. This was too cozy a setup, with her bed just down the hall from his.
“The housekeeper’s quarters off the kitchen will be ready for you to move into by tomorrow night,” he abruptly told her.
“You never did say what renovations you were doing on it.”
“The twins sprayed the walls with ketchup, then lay on the floor as if they’d been shot by desperadoes. Scared the last housekeeper so much that she didn’t even bother packing, just tossed her stuff in her car, saying she wasn’t going to stay in any room decorated like some scene from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre .”