The child continued to look apprehensively at Linc for a long moment. At last she said, “Okay,” in her soft voice. And for the first time since he’d arrived and discovered that nothing about the ranch was as he’d imagined, Linc actually felt as if he was making progress.
“Do we hafta go to school tomorrow?” Cassie ventured.
Avoiding Randi’s accusatory gaze, Linc cleared his throat. “Probably not tomorrow, darlin’. Tomorrow, the boys and I need to decide what we’re doing with the fields, since we played this afternoon. But soon. You’ll need to go back soon.”
If Miranda thought “soon” was too vague, she managed to hide her disappointment as she began stacking dirty dishes. “Jenny, you look totally bushed. It’s all you can do to keep your eyes open. If you’ll help Cassie and Hana get ready for bed, I’ll clean up here. I’ll do the dishes and set up for tomorrow’s breakfast.”
“Deal! I’m beginning to feel aches in muscles I forgot I had.” Jenny levered her body out of her chair. “Tell me why the muscles in my butt hurt.”
Linc laughed. “Those are the ones you use when you shovel hay.”
“Who shoveled hay? We threw it around with our hands, and that was the easy part. Randi and I shoveled horseshit, though, until I thought my arms would fall off.”
“Shh,” Miranda shushed her, darting meaningful glances toward the little ears.
“Get used to it,” Greg told Jenny, making ready to leave the table. “With four horses, I’ll bet shoveling manure is a daily event.”
Jenny groaned.
“It’s not so bad if you clean the stalls every couple of days,” Miranda rushed to say.
“We’re singers, not farmers,” Eric grumbled on his way out.
“Keep telling yourself that!” Jenny exclaimed.
Once again, Miranda and Linc found themselves alone. He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “Maybe this idea I had of a working ranch wasn’t so hot.”
“Why? Because everyone’s complaining about being sore?”
“Because these kids will never see the value in anything except show business.”
Miranda paused in scraping Wolfie’s uneaten meat into Scraps’s dish. “Loving the land takes time. If they can hang in here until spring and see the results of their labor, I predict it’ll be harder for them to leave.”
“If they hang in. Funny, the day they came, I wanted them gone.” He paused. “You’re very different from them, aren’t you, Randi?” Linc murmured from directly behind her. “Is that even your real name?”
She stiffened, feeling his warm breath on the back of her neck. “What’s in a name?”
He felt her tense and stepped aside. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crowd you. I’m…just…”
“Just?” Miranda glanced over her shoulder.
“Nothing.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I appreciate the way you’ve pitched in with the cooking and cleaning the barn. Can I…uh…give you a hand with the dishes, so you can follow the others to bed?”
“No. But thanks for the offer. I only have to load the new dishwasher and poke a few buttons. I like having time to myself. It helps me unwind after a long day at work, if you know what I mean.”
“I do.” He rummaged in a cupboard and came out with a good-size flashlight. “I need to let that farm supper settle.” He rubbed his belly, and Miranda had to make a yeoman’s effort not to stare at his lazily circling hand.
“I thought hard work called for hearty fare. I can fix more vegetables and less meat and potatoes if you’d like.”
“Don’t get me wrong. The food was great. I expect we’ll burn those calories off, especially the guys, once we start clearing the land.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll stick with my plan to serve roast chicken tomorrow night. What are you doing with the flashlight?”
“I thought I’d walk around outside and check to be sure the horses are adjusting to their new quarters. Want me to take Scraps out for you?”
“He’s still eating.” Miranda debated, though, whether or not to suggest making a pot of fresh coffee. But she debated too long, for she heard him go out and quietly close the door.
She’d tidied up the kitchen, shut off all the lights except the one over the sink, taken Scraps out for his evening constitutional and had just gone into her room when she heard the outside door open and close again, signaling his return. She waited to hear him walk down the hall. She didn’t hear his footsteps, but after a moment noticed sounds coming from the main bath. A toilet flushed. Water ran. Not the shower, but more like he was just washing up.
Miranda sat down on her cot. The room was dark, and Jenny and the little girls breathed rhythmically as if all were deeply asleep. Wishing she had a book and a small light by which to read, Miranda ultimately decided she was too wide awake to fall asleep. Scraps seemed restless, too.
Taking care to walk softly, she exited the room. She grabbed her jacket off the peg by the back door, thinking she’d sit on the porch awhile and look at the stars, while the dog nosed around. It was a beautiful, if rather cool, night. A three-quarter moon sent patterns through the leafless trees, scattering diamondlike sparkles across the floor of the porch.
Miranda leaned against the railing, Scraps beside her, and searched for the Big and Little Dippers. She gave a triumphant sigh as she found the North Star and followed it to the Big Dipper.
“Who’s there?” a gruff masculine voice called from the far end of the porch.
“It’s me,” Miranda squeaked. “Linc, is that you?” Miranda thought so, but she gripped the railing and stayed where she was in case she was wrong. She hadn’t heard him leave the house after he’d come in.
He loomed out of the shadows, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight.
“I thought you’d turned in,” Linc said. “The lights were out when I got back from the barn.”
“I tried to go to bed. I guess I’m too keyed up from all the physical labor to be sleepy yet. Are you having trouble sleeping, too?” She smiled. “If you’d like, I can go brew a pot of coffee. Or would you like a cold roast beef sandwich?”
“No, I’m still stuffed. Thanks again for dinner.” He grinned. “You cooked a roast because you had no faith in our fishing abilities?”
“It was already in the oven when you decided to go fishing. And roast is always good for sandwiches, hot or cold.”
“You’re right. But I’m capable of making a pot of coffee, Randi. You’re not here to wait on me.”
“I only meant…well, I offered because you put in a long day.”
“So did you.”
Miranda gathered her jacket beneath her chin. She eyed him through her lashes, trying to figure out what was making him act so testy. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding on your privacy, Parker.”
“It’s Linc, remember?” He leaned a shoulder against one of the upright posts. “If I sound guilty, it’s because you caught me sneaking a beer. I brought a six-pack from home, but stashed it because I’m not sure if any of the kids have problems with alcohol.” To be more truthful, she’d caught him thinking about her. Thinking—and wondering what kind of guy would terrify her so much she’d go on the run.
She laughed, low and sexy.
Her way of laughing tightened Linc’s belly.
“I enjoy an occasional beer myself, Linc. But you’re probably right to hide it from the boys. There’s something about forbidden fruit, so to speak, that attracts teenage boys.”
“Yeah.” Linc hoisted himself up so he sat on the porch rail facing her. He offered her the bottle and she took a swallow.
“Ah-ha! I knew boys weren’t the only ones attracted to forbidden fruit.”
“Oh, but I’m legal, so it’s not forbidden.”
“All the same, it’s not something I indulge in to excess. According to Wolfie, George Tucker always had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.”
“So you’re determined to present the kids with a better role model.”
“It
wouldn’t take much. But yeah, I hope to do just that for the kids who come to the refuge. Maybe if I’d been more conscious of setting a good example when Felicity entered her teens, she’d…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Jenny thinks I’m a fool for not knowing they invaded my house whenever I was on business trips. God knows how many bashes Felicity threw that she probably patterned after the cocktail parties I hosted for clients.”
“Are you saying you threw wild parties in front of her?”
“Not wild, exactly. But in Hollywood, people in the industry tend to bring designer drugs with them to cocktail parties. I didn’t use, but what if I missed noticing that a client left something lying around? I generally had my parties catered, and I left the cleanup to their staff. I thought nothing of keeping a stocked bar. Frankly, it never dawned on me that my baby sister would sneak food and booze for herself and her friends. Yet Eric said as much. And I obviously made it easy, always shelling out money whenever Felicity asked for it.”
“If you’re guilty of anything, Linc, it’s not realizing that your sister grew up sometime while you weren’t looking. You loved her. However, you need to accept that she not only grew up, but made some bad choices in the process.” Miranda moved closer, and her jacket front brushed his thigh.
Linc’s head shot up. Hearing his name—his first name, which she’d rarely used—fall softly, compassionately, from her lips startled him. An anguish he couldn’t abolish compelled him to set his beer aside and reach for the woman offering him compassion and comfort. He wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her short curls. His heart sped up when she stepped closer, slipping her narrow hips between his thighs. Time slowed as he breathed in the light, lemony scent he’d come to associate only with her.
Randi seemed to hug him back as tightly as he hugged her. She felt right to Linc, who didn’t stop to consider how little he really knew about the woman he clutched against his fractured heart. At first he was only aware of the comfort she so willingly gave. But, little by little, comfort was replaced by sexual yearnings.
Linc fought the urge to bring her closer, while at the same time he was bombarded by a voice that said to push her away.
It’d been too long since he held a woman. And she felt so good under his exploring hands. Slim hips. Narrow waist. Heat radiating through a threadbare T-shirt. They warmed each other.
His lips, now buried in her springy dark curls, blazed a trail to her ear. One taste, and his mindless quest led to her temple, then her cheek and finally met her mouth in sweet satisfaction. His hands worked their way beneath her shirt and found that her skin was soft and bare. The lips he continued to kiss uttered enticing, breathless sounds that would spur any man’s urges into overdrive. Especially a man who’d done without female companionship for as long as Linc Parker had.
He felt the flash of heat at several points of contact and vaguely knew his legs had gone numb with the lethargic heaviness invading his lower body.
Miranda still tried to grapple with how they’d gone from a rational discussion of Linc’s life in Hollywood to this…this…mind-boggling assault on her senses.
It occurred to her that she ought not to let him touch her so intimately. But the more his slightly sandpapery fingertips moved over her flesh, the more flesh she wanted to bare for him. His thumbs brushed back and forth over the aching tips of her breasts. Once before, when a would-be lover’s tongue had invaded her mouth, she hadn’t liked it and had pulled back in alarm. With Linc, there was no sense of fear, and she didn’t feel invaded. She felt…out of breath, excited, wanting more.
Linc slowly drew back to take a deep breath and to get his bearings. Sanity returned like a load of concrete dumped on his head. What was he doing? He sprang away suddenly and got a good look at her shiny wet lips, her mussed hair and passion-drugged eyes. A shaft of moonlight haloed her face and hair. For a moment, Linc thought her dark curls had turned platinum before his eyes. She was exquisite. And familiar enough to trigger a distant memory. Then a cloud drifted across the face of the moon, and he blinked several times, unsure of the fleeting metamorphosis.
“Linc?” She opened her eyes and cocked her head to one side. Registering his dazed expression, she stepped back and adjusted her shirt. In fact, she shivered and closed her jacket over her still-tingling breasts. “My dad would say you look like someone walked over your grave.” She made an odd, choked sound. “Was kissing me such a bad experience?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry I got carried away. But you shouldn’t have to fish for compliments. I should think you’d know the answer. Kissing you was anything but a hardship.”
Ashamed of a neediness that was the antithesis of the Miranda Kimbrough she used to be—the woman she was searching for—she lowered her gaze. “I’ll say good night. It’s late. And a rancher’s life begins at dawn.”
Linc caught her sleeve. “You say that with the conviction of someone who knows. Someone who’s been there, done that. Is the man you’re running from a rancher? Did you tease him out of his mind like you’re teasing me? Is that why you’re on the lam?”
“No. No. And no again.” Miranda deftly disengaged his hand from her denim jacket. “Are you angry because you hate having shared a piece of your life with me? Painful history you’d rather no one learned about? Too bad, Parker. I know, and it moved me to hug and kiss you back. It happened. I won’t apologize. But it doesn’t give you the right to analyze me. Or criticize me.”
Despite the flush staining his cheeks, Linc persisted. He wanted answers, dammit! “I didn’t invite you here. You came pretending to be someone you’re not. Who are you exactly? And what do you want from me?”
Her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip quivered. “I can’t tell you who I am. I thought we’d settled that, Linc. Please believe I’d be honest with you if I could. I want…” She licked her lips and implored him through a film of tears. “I want shelter. That’s all. If you can’t harbor me on those terms…well, like I said before, I’ll leave. You can tell the others anything. Make up a story about me. You’ve already done that in your mind, I think.”
“Dammit to hell!” Linc swiped a hand through the air and said through gritted teeth, “I don’t want you to leave.”
“What do you want? Tell me. I’ve never been good at reading between the lines.”
His chin drooped and he sank back against the porch railing. “Let’s keep the status quo until after Thanksgiving. That’s when the new director from Social Services is scheduled to pay the ranch a visit. I don’t know what she’ll ask, but she’s bound to want information on everyone I’m harboring. I’ll give you until then to decide what to say. Just remember—I want Felicity’s Refuge to be on the up-and-up. It’s the least I can do to honor the person my sister might have been.”
“That’s approximately five weeks,” she said thoughtfully. “Thank you for that, Linc.”
“I don’t want your thanks. I want you to trust me, to let me help you. I have connections. You may think Hollywood is all fluff. Most people do. But it’s big business. Very big business. I have plenty of experience in solving my clients’ problems—legal, financial, whatever. Let me stop this jerk from harassing you.”
Miranda was oh-so-tempted to dump her self-made troubles on Linc’s broad shoulders. But she thought of Wes Carlisle, who was probably as well placed in Nashville as Parker was in Hollywood. And Wes happened to be the man who had her chained to a contract even Houdini couldn’t escape. Briefly she considered what Linc had said about wanting this ranch, Felicity’s Refuge, to be above reproach. She’d take the five weeks he offered. Maybe then she’d put out feelers to see if Wes would let her go.
Fat chance. After running into that life-size cutout of herself in the window of a small-town record shop, Miranda knew that if she was found here, Linc’s name and ranch would be virtually destroyed by a vicious scandal.
“Randi.” Linc pursed his lips and altered his tone. “I’ve been thinking about what you said
regarding Cassie and Wolfie needing to get back to school. I’ll find some time tomorrow to deal with it. Will you come to town with us and help me buy them clothes? I hate to spare the time, but…you don’t happen to have a valid driver’s license, do you?”
She shrugged. “I do. But not a California license. Anyway, I left it behind.”
“I see. But you can take the test and get one here, right?”
She looked sad as she shook her head. “I can’t, Linc.”
He shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Then we’ll all go, I guess, and call it another supply run. The boys can use jeans, boots and gloves, since I’m asking them to work around farm machinery. I noticed that you and Jenny keep wearing the same things, too.”
Miranda wanted to protest against his buying her anything. It wasn’t right, considering she had a fortune sitting in Tennessee. The best she could do, however, was mutter, “I’ll pay you back one of these days, Parker. As soon as I get on my feet.”
“Lassen County has a college. Most California colleges offer satellite courses for the major universities. As good as you are with children, you ought to consider getting a degree in social work.” He massaged the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to interfere in your life, but given what we’ve recently observed, the need for more good people in the field is certainly there. And it might help you with your dilemma.”
Miranda met his eyes. “My dilemma?”
“Yeah. Help you deal with—you know—the jerk. Social workers must run into a lot of domestic-violence cases.”
“I said it wasn’t like that,” she said tiredly. “It’s more…” She stopped midsentence.
“More what?”
“I guess you could say it’s more like breaking out of an unbreakable contract,” she said lamely. “Really, Parker, I wish you’d quit trying to psych me out. I promise I’ll have my life organized before the new director, Mrs. Bishop, shows up here.”
Linc pondered her words a moment as Randi whistled for the dog, opened the door and disappeared. “Hey,” he called, then tried again. “Hey, there’s not a contract written that doesn’t have loopholes somewhere. Any contract can be broken.”
A Cowboy at Heart Page 14