by Diana Palmer
Here we go again, Worth thought with disgust. Same song, second verse. “No, it’s not because Molly’s back.”
“I just don’t understand you, Worth.” Eva’s tone was as cold as the look she gave him.
He refused to take the bait, so he kept quiet.
Eva’s generous lips thinned. “You know we’re concerned. You should respect that.”
“That’s right, son, you’re not being fair to us.”
Worth stood abruptly. “The fact that Molly has come to see about her mother is none of your business.”
Eva’s gaze tracked him. “I still can’t believe you’d let her back in your house after what she did to you.”
This time Worth’s lips thinned. “Don’t press it, Mother. I told you Molly’s off-limits.”
He might as well have been talking to the wall for Eva steam-rolled right on, “You never said how long she plans to stay.”
“Mother!”
Eva’s hand flew to her chest as though terribly offended. “That’s a perfectly legitimate concern I would think.”
“She’s taking her mother’s place as my housekeeper.” Hell, he might as well drop the bomb now as later, and let the debris fall where it may.
Ted and Eva gasped simultaneously, then they both started talking at once, which turned into a bunch of gibberish.
Worth held up his hand. “Don’t say another word, either of you. I’ve made my decision and it stands.”
“As my son,” Eva said with a quiver, “I gave you more credit than that.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“I understand she has a child.”
Worth shrugged. “So she has a child.”
“I can’t imagine her with a brat.”
That nixed it. Suddenly fury was an invisible malignancy that threatened to devour him. Yet somehow he managed not to throttle his own mother. “His name is Trent.”
“Then he’s with her.” Eva pursed her lips.
“Yes,” Worth said in a tired tone.
“You don’t still care about her, do you?” Eva asked in a softer, gentler tone as though realizing she pushed as far as she could without completely alienating her son.
“No.” Worth’s voice was clipped. “If we don’t change the subject, I’m out of here. Is that understood?”
Eva sighed as she cast another look at her husband who merely shrugged his shoulders as if to say, what choice do we have.
“So, Dad, do you really think I have a chance to win the Senate seat if I decide to toss my hat into the ring?”
Ted’s heretofore glum features returned to life. “You betcha. Dan Elliot has lost his popularity with his constituents, which means you’ve got a clear shot at taking the nomination, if not the election.”
Worth rubbed his chin in an idle fashion. “I guess the next step is to have a gathering of supporters and test the waters.”
“Now you’re talking, son,” Eva put in. “Once you win that Senate seat, perhaps you’ll become so addicted you’ll keep right on climbing the political ladder.”
“Hold on, Mom. I’m not even sure about this race, much less anything else.”
“I think a barbecue would do for starters.”
Worth thought a moment. “That sounds so trite and typical, but I guess that’s still the best way to go.”
“You need to get Maxine—” Eva paused midsentence, then made a face. “Oh, dear, for a moment I forgot she’s out of commission.”
“Not a problem. I’ve got it covered.”
Eva’s mouth looked pinched. “Well, I doubt that Molly’s capable—”
“Mother!”
“Sorry,” she said, compressing her lips.
Worth knew she wasn’t in the least sorry, but nonetheless she had the sense to let the subject drop. Suddenly he felt the urge to get out of his parents’ house before he completely blew his temper and said things he’d regret, not that he had any intention of defending Molly because he didn’t. Still, it bothered him that they looked on her as someone they had carte blanche to belittle and get by with it.
Since he had no intention of defending her, he had no alternative but to keep his mouth shut. He couldn’t have it both ways.
Suddenly Worth felt like he’d stepped in a bed of quicksand and was being sucked under.
“Look, I gotta go,” he said, lunging to his feet and heading for the door. Then he turned and said to his mother, “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll be in touch.”
By the time he reached his truck, he slammed his hand down on the top and cursed a blue streak.
Believe it or not she had been at the ranch a week. Since Maxine still needed her, she intended to stay on a while longer. To her relief, the last few days had passed uneventfully.
Molly had gone about her business of taking care of the household duties. With Trent content and happy, watched by a young lady named Tammy Evans, she was free to do what needed to be done. With Kathy’s physical help and Maxine’s verbal input, Molly was pleased.
The house was lovely and her mother had apparently taken great pride in keeping it that way, which made things easy for Molly. In the beginning, she’d been leery of her temporary position. But after the first day, Molly realized she actually enjoyed doing something different.
Working with the public, especially the ill public, was a far cry from working with inanimate objects such as dishes and crystal. Cooking was the part she liked least, never having mastered that craft like her mother. But she guessed it didn’t matter because Worth apparently hadn’t wanted her to cook for him.
It seemed as if they had fallen into a pattern of avoiding each other, which was just fine with Molly. Oh, they passed in the hall and at those particular times, their gazes never failed to meet, then tangle. Most times she couldn’t read his response unless his features were pinched in anger.
She knew he continued to resent her presence, but that couldn’t be helped, she told herself as she went about slicing some fruit for lunch. But she knew sooner or later, they would have to talk, not only about the house, but about upcoming parties or events.
In fact, word had gotten around that a barbecue for potential political backers was on the horizon. In due time she supposed he would speak to her about that.
Meanwhile, she would continue to divide her time between her chores, her mother and her son, all of which were full-time jobs. However, she wasn’t complaining; the setting was too perfect. Not only did she work inside, but she worked outside, as well. If she had a hobby, it was growing plants. And her green thumb was evident, especially at this time of year. The multileveled porch was ablaze with potted plants filled with vibrant fall colors.
Now, as she continued to slice the fruit, Molly gazed through the window into the bright sunlight, admiring her handiwork.
She wondered what Worth thought, or even if he’d noticed the added pots of plants.
“You’ve done a great job with the porch.”
Molly’s heart went wild. Was that mental telepathy or what? She swung around and faced Worth who looked like he’d been ridden hard and put up wet. The lines on his face seemed deeper; his hair was disheveled; his jeans, shirt and boots were covered in dust.
“What happened to you?” she blurted out.
“Art and I have been clearing land.”
“Must have been some task.”
“It was that and more.”
“You look exhausted.”
“I am. But it’s nothing a shower and a glass of tea won’t cure.”
She immediately crossed to the fridge and opened it.
“You don’t have to wait on me, you know?” His voice was low with a moody edge to it.
She looked back at him, then swallowed. “I know, but I don’t mind.” Before he could say anything else, she latched on to the pitcher of tea, poured him a glass, then held it out to him.
As though careful not to touch her, he took the glass, then without taking his gaze off hers, put it to his lips and took a big gul
p. His stare was all consuming.
Molly wanted to look away, but couldn’t. She was mesmerized by the unexpected heat in his eyes and the way he smelled—manly—like clean sweat. Suddenly her palms went clammy and her mouth went dry.
Before he realized the impact he had on her, she whirled around, went back to the cabinet, picked up the knife and began cutting more fruit. It was in a split second that it happened.
The knife slipped and instead of slicing the apple, it sliced her. “Oh!” she cried, just as Worth reached her side, grabbed her finger, and squeezed it until the blood stopped.
“Dammit, Molly,” he said in ragged voice.
“Why are you yelling at me?” she cried, looking at him only to realize his lips were merely a heartbeat away from hers, his eyes seemingly dark with need.
She knew in that second he intended to kiss her.
Nine
Only he didn’t.
Worth swore, then focused his attention back to her finger that he now held under the faucet, rinsing off the blood. Molly looked on in shocked silence—not because she’d injured herself, but because she had wanted him to kiss her. Disappointment washed through her in waves.
No! her conscience cried. That was insane. She never wanted him to touch her. Physical contact of that nature was forbidden and out of the question. Again, keeping her distance was her only method of survival.
And her hand in his was not keeping her distance.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, tugging at her hand, only he wouldn’t let go.
He grabbed a paper towel and gently touched the wound.
“Ouch,” Molly exclaimed before she thought.
“Sorry.” Though Worth’s tone was gruff, his touch was gentle, which made her quiver all over, especially since he continued to examine the wound at close quarters. Much too close.
When he finally raised his head and looked at her, Molly was hit with a sizzle of electricity. For a second the world seemed to tip on its axis. Clearing his throat, Worth moved his head back.
“I think you’re going to live,” he said in a husky tone.
Molly managed a shaky smile. “You think so?”
A semblance of a smile reached his lips, which warmed her insides even more. God, she couldn’t let herself fall under this man’s spell again. She couldn’t. It was just too painful. He ripped her soul out once already and stomped on it. She couldn’t allow him to do it again. If it were just her—maybe she’d go for it. But it wasn’t just about her.
Trent.
He was the one she had to think about. With that sobering thought, Molly jerked her hand out of his, which in turn dislodged the tissue, causing the cut to start bleeding again. Without thinking, she stuck that finger in her mouth.
“Don’t do that,” Worth all but snapped.
She removed her finger and stared at him. “A little blood never hurt anyone.”
“I’ll get some ointment and a Band-Aid.”
“That’s okay. It’ll eventually stop bleeding.”
“Until it does, what are you going to do?”
She couldn’t believe they were having this rather inane conversation about a cut that was certainly not serious. A big to-do about nothing, actually. “Ah, good question,” she said at last.
“I’ll be right back.”
After he had gone, Molly wrapped another paper towel around the wound and leaned against the cabinet, realizing her legs suddenly had the consistency of Jell-O.
As promised, Worth returned in record time and without asking, reached for her hand. If he held her hand a bit longer than necessary to administer first aid, they both chose to ignore it.
Maybe that was because Trent came dashing through the door about that time, only to pull up short, his eyes widening on the scene before him. Instantly, Molly reclaimed her hand and stepped a safe distance from Worth.
Trent’s eyes went straight to the bandage. “Mommy, did you hurt your hand?”
“Yes, honey, I did, but it’s okay.”
“Did Worth fix it?”
Molly forced a smile. “He surely did.”
“But you’re a nurse.”
Worth chuckled, which instantly drew her gaze and made her catch her breath. It had been so long since she’d heard him laugh, her body went into meltdown. He was sex personified, and she couldn’t stop herself from reacting no matter how hard she tried. If she weren’t careful, she’d be drooling, for heaven’s sake.
“You’ll learn one day,” Worth said to Trent, “that nurses and doctors are the worst patients ever.”
Trent’s eyes got big again. “Really?”
Worth winked at him. “Really.”
“Okay, you two, enough,” Molly put in, then focused on Trent. “Go wash your hands. Lunch is almost ready.”
Trent hesitated, cutting his gaze to Worth. “Will you eat with us?” he asked.
Stunned at her son’s bluntness, Molly immediately said, “I’m sure Worth has other plans. I’ll—”
“No, I don’t, except to wash up a bit.”
Silence fell over the room at the same time Molly darted her eyes back to Worth. He returned her gaze with one as innocent as a new born babe’s. Damn, she thought, now what?
She had planned to take her mother lunch, and she and Trent would join her while she ate. Worth had certainly usurped those plans. Not necessarily, she told herself. She could say no to Worth, tell him what she’d had in mind. If the truth be known, he was probably wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Wonder why he hadn’t?
“Oh, boy,” Trent said, racing for a chair.
“Hey, slow down,” Molly reprimanded. “You know not to run in the house. Any house.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, his eyes on Worth, who once again had something akin to a smile on his face.
Trent smiled back and Molly’s stomach did a somersault. For a brief moment the resemblance between father and son was so obvious she could scarcely breathe, anxiety having another field day with her stomach.
“Molly?”
Worth’s voice brought her out of her trance. “What?” Even though she answered, she knew she didn’t sound like herself. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said stiffly, groping to cover her tracks. “Why do you ask?”
Worth’s dark eyes narrowed, but then he shrugged, glancing quickly at Trent whose eyes were ping-ponging between them, as if sensing something was going on.
“No reason,” Worth finally said, then changing the subject asked, “What’s for lunch?”
“Roast sandwiches, chips and fruit.”
Worth winked at Trent. “Sounds like a winner to me. How ‘bout you, son?”
Son.
Don’t call him that, Molly wanted to scream. He’s not your son—he’s mine. All mine, she told herself savagely and desperately, as she looked out the kitchen window into the meadow, the sun creating a beauty that miraculously calmed her fractured nerves.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.”
“Ah, sorry, honey. I’m coming.”
Worth shoved back his chair and walked toward her. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Nothing,” she said in an obviously cold tone.
He paused midstride, his eyebrows kicking up and a scowl darkening his features. “Excuse me,” he muttered, then pivoted on one foot and made his way back to the table.
Molly released a pent-up breath, knowing that Worth was not used to having someone give him orders. That was his job, and he expected everyone, especially hired help, to hop to it. The long hot days of their summer together taught her that.
However, for some unknown reason, he didn’t make an issue out of her bossiness, most likely because Trent was there, which was a good thing. She wasn’t in the mood to take any of his high-handedness.
“What do you guys want to drink?” Molly asked, making her tone as pleasant as possible, mostly for her own sake. She had to prove to herself that she could be with Worth and behave like a rational, in-control woman. No
matter what, he must not rattle her.
Several minutes later, the goodies were on plates, on the table and the tea glasses filled. Though they ate in silence, Molly was aware of Worth, how much he turned her on and how much he provoked her. A double-edged sword, on which she hopefully wouldn’t fall.
She sensed he was aware of her, as well. When she accidentally looked at him, he was watching her with a mixture of desire and anger.
“Mommy, I’m finished.”
Thank God for her son’s perfect timing. “I made cookies for dessert,” she said in a higher than normal voice. “You want one?”
“Can I have two?”
Molly cocked her head, then smiled. “I guess so, since you were such a good boy and ate all your sandwich.”
“Mr. Worth, you want some, too?” Trent asked.
Molly couldn’t help but notice that her son looked at Worth like he was a hero. She could understand that. As always, Worth looked the consummate cowboy, dressed in jeans, white shirt, and boots, and hat.
It was at that moment that she regretted letting Trent remain at the ranch. She should have insisted he go to day care, eliminating the chance of Worth and Trent becoming too chummy.
But it was too late to renege and too late for regrets. She’d just have to be sure to keep them apart as much as possible.
“You bet, I do,” Worth said. “Who in their right mind would pass up homemade cookies?”
“Especially the ones my mommy makes.” Trent grinned. “They’re yummy.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Molly said. “Before you dig in, why don’t you and I take Granna’s meal to her?”
“I want to stay here with Mr. Worth.”
Worth raised his eyebrows. “Unless you need the help, we’ll stay and eat our cookies.”
Which was exactly what she didn’t want. Since she’d seen the likeness in them, she couldn’t bear the idea of leaving them alone together. Yet she couldn’t make a scene about it, either. She might possibly raise a red flag, something she still did not want to do.
“That’s fine,” she muttered, grabbing her mother’s tray and making her way out of the room.
Five minutes later she walked back in the kitchen to find Worth seemingly hanging on every word Trent was saying. Panic almost paralyzed her, but she rebounded, saying to her son, “Hey you, it’s your nap time with Granna.”