by Diana Palmer
Mallory appeared to forcibly drag his eyes away. He sipped coffee. “Well, you can go, but you be careful. I still think he’s a risk. But it’s your life.”
“Yes, it is,” she replied. Her throat felt tight, and she was flushed. She got to her feet. “Thanks for the coffee,” she told the housekeeper. “It’s time for me to get to work.”
“Don’t fall in the dipping pool,” Mallory said with a straight face, but his dark eyes twinkled in a way that was new and exciting.
“Yes, sir, boss,” she replied. She smiled and turned to move quickly out of the room before she embarrassed herself by staring at him. She wondered how she was going to conceal the sudden new delight she got from looking at her boss.
SHE HAD A NICE PAIR OF SLACKS and a pink-and-lime embroidered sweater. She wore those for her date, and let her long hair down. She brushed it until it shone. It was thick and black and beautiful, like her mother’s. When she looked in the mirror, she saw many traces of her mother in her own face. She wasn’t beautiful, but she wasn’t plain, either. She had the same elfin features that had taken Shelby Kane Brannt to such fame in her modeling days. And Morie’s grandmother, Maria Kane, had been a motion-picture star, quite famous for her acting ability. Morie hadn’t inherited that trait. Her one taste of theater in college had convinced her that she was never meant for the stage.
She had a lightweight denim coat, and she wore that over her sweater, because it was cold outside. The weather was fluctuating madly. Typical Wyoming weather, she thought amusedly. The Texas climate was like that, too.
She heard a car drive up to the bunkhouse. She whipped her fanny pack into place and went out to meet Clark. He was sitting behind the wheel of the sports car, grinning.
She noted that he didn’t get out to open her door. He leaned across and threw it open for her.
She climbed in. “Hi.”
“Hi, back. Ready for a nice movie?”
“You bet.”
He put the car in gear and roared out down the driveway.
“Don’t do that,” she groaned. “We have heifers calving in the barn!”
“Oops, sorry, didn’t think,” he said, but he didn’t look concerned. “They’ll get over it. Nice night. They said it might snow, but I don’t believe the forecast. They’re mostly wrong.”
She was thinking about the nervous heifers being kept up because it was their first breeding season, and wondering how much flak she was going to get from her boss if anything happened because of Clark’s thoughtlessness.
“Stop worrying,” he teased. “It’s just cows, for heaven’s sake.”
Just cows. She loved to stop and pet them when she was in the barn. She loved their big eyes and big noses, and the soft fur between their eyes. They were so gentle. And these little heifers, even if they were animals, must be so scared. She’d always had a terror of childbirth, for reasons she could never quite understand. It was one of many reasons that she was hesitant to marry at all.
“Do you know that Elizabeth the First never married and never had a child?” she remarked.
He made a face. “History. I hate that. Let’s talk about who’s leading the pack in American Idol!”
She gaped at him. She didn’t watch television very much. “I watch the Weather Channel, the military channel and the science channels mostly,” she remarked. “I’ve never watched any of those audience-participation shows.”
“I can see that we’re never going to meet in the middle on issues,” he remarked. “Doesn’t matter. You’re cute and I like you. We can go from there.”
Could they? She wondered.
THE MOVIE WAS FUN. It was clever and funny and both of them came out of the theater smiling.
“Now let’s have some nice Chinese food,” he said. “You hungry?”
“Starved. But we’re going Dutch,” she added firmly. “I bought my own movie ticket…I’ll pay for my food, too.”
His eyebrows arched. “I wouldn’t expect you to owe me anything if I bought dinner.”
She smiled. “Just the same, I like everything on an equal footing.”
“You’re a strange girl,” he commented thoughtfully.
“Strange?” She shrugged. “I suppose I am.”
“Let’s eat.”
He led the way into the restaurant and they followed the waitress to a table in a corner.
“This is beautiful,” Morie remarked, loving the Asian decor, which featured nice copies of ancient statues and some wood carvings that were very expensive. Morie, who’d traveled Asia, appreciated the culture depicted. She’d loved the people she met in her travels.
“Junk,” he told her casually. “Nothing valuable in here.”
“I meant that it was pretty,” she clarified.
“Oh.” He glanced around. “I guess so. A little gaudy for my taste.”
She was about to respond when her eye caught movement at the door. There, at the counter, was her boss, Mallory Kirk, with Gelly Bruner. He spoke to the waitress and let her seat them nearby.
He smiled coolly and nodded at Morie and Clark. She was thinking that it was an odd coincidence, having him show up here. Certainly he wouldn’t have had any reason to be spying on her….
“Do you believe this?” Clark asked, shocked. “Does he do this every time you go out with a man? I’ve heard of possessive employers, but this takes the cake.”
“He takes his date all over the place,” she replied, trying to sound casual. “This is the only really good restaurant in town.”
“I suppose so.”
“He wouldn’t have any reason to keep an eye on me,” she pointed out. “I’m just the hired help.”
He pursed his lips and studied her. “Sure.”
MALLORY WAS LOOKING AT HER, too, his dark eyes on the long wealth of thick black hair that hung straight and shiny down her back almost to her waist.
“Why are you staring at her?” Gelly asked coldly. “She’s just a common person. She works for you. And why are we here? You know I hate Chinese food!”
He didn’t hear her. He was thinking that he’d never seen anything as beautiful as that long black hair. It brought to mind a poem. She’d probably be familiar with it, too—Bess, the landlord’s black-eyed daughter, plaiting a dark red love knot into her long, black hair. “The Highwayman” by Alfred Noyes. It was a tragic poem, the heroine sacrificing herself for the hero. “‘I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way…’”
“What?” Gelly asked blankly.
He hadn’t realized that he’d spoken aloud. “Nothing. What would you like to order?” he added and forced himself to look at his date and not Morie.
MORIE WAS UNCOMFORTABLE. Clark wanted to talk about contestants on the television show, and she had no point of reference at all.
“That guy, you know, he really can’t sing, but he’s got a following and he’s getting most of the votes,” he muttered. “I like the girl. She’s classy, she’s got a great voice… Are you listening?”
She grimaced. “Sorry. I was thinking about the weather reports. They think we might have another snow, and we’ve got a lot of first-time mothers dropping calves.”
“Cows,” he groaned. “Morie, there’s more to life than four-legged steaks.”
Her eyes widened. “Mr. Kirk doesn’t have a cow-calf operation. It’s strictly a seed-bull ranch.”
He blinked. “Seed bull.”
“Yes. They produce industry-leading bulls for market.” She leaned forward. “They don’t eat them.”
He shook his head. “You are the oddest girl I ever met.”
She grinned. “Why, thank you!”
He picked up his wineglass and had a long sip. “Sure you don’t want any wine?” he asked. “This is the only restaurant in town where you can buy single drinks legally.”
“I can’t drink,” she said. “Bad stomach. I get very sick. Can’t drink carbonated beverages, either. Just coffee or iced tea. Or, in this case—” she lifted the lit
tle cup with steaming green tea “—hot tea.” She sipped it and closed her eyes. “Wonderful!”
He made a face. “You didn’t put sugar in it.”
“Oh, nobody puts sugar in it in Japan,” she blurted out and then bit her tongue. “At least, from what I’ve read,” she corrected quickly.
“I can’t drink it straight. It tastes awful.” He put the wineglass down. “They have good desserts here, sticky rice with mango or coconut ice cream.”
“The ice cream,” she said, laughing. “I love it.”
“Me, too.” He motioned to the waitress. “At least we both like one thing,” he mused.
WHEN THEY GOT READY to leave, Mallory Kirk watched them through narrowed eyes. He got up while Morie was paying the bill and motioned Clark to one side.
Clark gave him a nervous look. “Mr. Kirk,” he said pleasantly enough.
Mallory’s dark eyes narrowed. “She’s not young enough to be my daughter, but I’m responsible for her. If you do anything she doesn’t like,” he added with the coldest smile Clark had ever seen, “I’ll pay you a visit.”
“You can’t threaten people,” Clark began, flushed.
“Oh, it’s no threat, son,” Mallory said. His jaw tautened. “It’s an ironclad, gold-edged promise.”
He turned and walked off, pausing at his table to leave a tip and help Gelly to her feet.
Clark escorted an oblivious Morie out to his car. He was flushed from the wine and angry that one of the Kirk brothers had threatened him.
“I should call the police,” he muttered as he started the car and roared off out of the parking lot.
“What for?” Morie asked, curious.
“Your boss made a threat,” he said stiffly.
“My boss? What are you talking about?”
He started to tell her and then thought better of it. She was pretty and he liked her; he didn’t want her to think there was a reason for her boss to warn him off.
He shrugged. “He just said I’d better look after you,” he amended.
Her dark eyebrows arched. “Why in the world would he say something like that?” she asked, and tried not to look as flattered as she felt. No man interfered in a woman’s life unless he liked her.
“Beats me.” He glanced at her. “He’s not stuck on you, is he?”
She burst out laughing. “Oh, sure, he likes me because I’ve got millions in a trust fund and I know all the best people,” she said drily.
He laughed, too. He was out of his mind. She wasn’t the sort of woman a cattle baron would want to marry. The Kirks had fabulous parties with all sorts of famous people attending them to sell those cattle she talked about. They had some incredibly well-known friends, apparently. But Morie dressed in old clothes, even for a date. She was clueless. He was overreacting. Maybe Mallory really did feel responsible for her. Maybe he knew her folks. He might be afraid of a lawsuit. It wasn’t anything personal. Just good business.
“Well, I loved the movie,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Thank you. I don’t get out as much as I’d like to,” he added. “But we could see a movie once in a while and have dinner out, if you like.”
She smiled. “I’ll think about that.”
He’d planned to take her to an overlook that doubled as the local lover’s lane. But after Mallory’s blunt speech, he wasn’t keen to push the man. So instead, he drove her back to the ranch. He even turned off the engine and walked her to the door of the bunkhouse.
“You live in there with all those men?” he asked curiously.
“I have my own room,” she explained. “They’re nice men.”
“If you say so.”
“Well, thanks again,” she said, hesitating.
He smiled. He liked that little nervous laugh, the way her lips turned up at the corners, the faint dimple beside her mouth.
He bent and drew his lips gently against hers.
She tolerated the kiss. But she didn’t react to it. She felt nothing. Nothing at all.
He noticed that. They were too different to settle in together. But she was cute and he liked company on a night out.
“We’ll do it again soon,” he said.
She smiled. “Sure.”
She turned around and went into the bunkhouse. Darby was sitting by the door, his eyebrows arching as she walked in and closed the door behind her.
“Have fun?” he asked in a hushed tone, so he didn’t wake the cowboys down the hall.
“Yes. I guess.”
He tilted his head. “You guess?”
“Boss showed up at the restaurant,” she said, and looked puzzled. “I didn’t know he liked Chinese food.”
Darby’s eyes almost popped. “He hates it.”
She hesitated. “Well, he had Ms. Bruner with him. Maybe she likes it.”
“Maybe.”
“You sleep good, Darby.”
“You, too,” he said gently.
“The heifers doing okay?” she asked.
“Doing fine. We’ll just hope and pray that that the weatherman’s wrong on that snow forecast.”
“I’ll agree with that. Good night.”
“’Nite.”
She went into her room and closed the door. Darby had seemed shocked that the boss went to the restaurant where Morie was eating. She was shocked, too, but also pleased and flattered and thrilled to death.
She slept, finally. And her dreams were sweet.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE LAST THING MORIE EXPECTED the next day was to find a seething Gelly Bruner on her doorstep. Well, at the bunkhouse when she went in for lunch.
“I hate Chinese food,” Gelly said without a greeting.
“I’m sorry,” Morie said. “In that case, perhaps you should avoid Chinese restaurants.” She smiled.
“He went there because of you, didn’t he?” she demanded. “To make sure your date knew he was watching out for you.”
Morie looked innocent. “Why would he do that? He’s not my dad.”
Gelly frowned. “He’s not your boyfriend, either, and you’d better not make eyes at him,” she added coldly. “You won’t last long here if you do.”
“I work here,” Morie pointed out. “That’s all.”
“You see how they live and you like it,” the blonde said, giving Morie’s clothing an even colder look. “You’re poor and you’d like to have nice things and mingle with the right people.”
“I do mingle with the right people,” Morie said, offended.
“Cowboys” came the disparaging reply. “Smelly and stupid.”
“They’re neither.”
“If you do anything to make Mallory notice you, I’ll make sure it never happens again,” she added, lowering her voice. “You won’t be the first person I’ve helped off this ranch. It isn’t wise to make an enemy of me.”
“I work here,” Morie said, growing angry. She had her mother’s looks, but her father’s fiery temper. “And nobody threatens me.”
Gelly shifted. She wasn’t used to people who fought back. “My people are well-to-do,” she said stiffly. “And you won’t like how I get even.”
Morie raised an eyebrow. “Ditto.”
“Well, you just stay away from Mallory,” she said bluntly. “He’s mine and I don’t share!”
“Does he know?”
Gelly blinked. “Know what?”
“That he belongs to you? Perhaps I should ask him….”
“You shut up!” The blonde woman’s fists balled at her sides and her face grew flushed with temper. “I’ll get you!”
“Wind and water,” Morie said philosophically. “Words.”
Gelly drew back her hand and started to slap the younger woman, but Morie threw up her forearm instinctively and blocked the move.
“I have a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do,” she told Gelly in a soft voice. Her dark eyes glittered. “Try that again, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
Gelly let out a furious sound. “I’ll tell Mallory!”
“Be my guest,” Morie offered. “I can teach him a few moves, too, in case you try that with him.”
Gelly stomped back off toward the house, muttering to herself.
Morie shook her head at the retreating figure.
“Unwise,” Darby said, joining her. He watched Gelly walk away. “She makes a bad enemy. We lost a hand because she accused him of stealing. Told you about that.”
“She’ll think she’s poked a hornet’s nest if she tries it with me. Nobody warns me off people and gets away with it,” she said curtly. “I don’t have any designs on the boss, for God’s sake! I don’t even know him. I just work here!”
Darby patted her on the shoulder paternally. “There, there, don’t let it get you down. Two nights’ sleep and you’ll forget why you argued with her. Come on in and eat. We’ve got chili and Mexican corn bread that Mavie made for us. She’s a wonderful cook.”
“Yes, she is,” Morie agreed. She grimaced. “Sorry. I don’t usually lose my temper, but she set me off. What a piece of work!”
“I do agree. But she’s the boss’s headache, not ours, thank God.”
“I suppose so.”
She followed him inside.
BUT THAT WASN’T THE END of it. Mallory called Morie up to the big house, and he wasn’t smiling as he motioned her into the living room and closed the door.
“Sit down, please.” He indicated a leather chair, not the cushy brocade-covered white sofa. Her jeans were stained with grass and mud from helping with calving. Probably he didn’t want a brown-spotted couch, she thought wickedly.
She sat. “Yes, sir?”
He paced. “Gelly said that you threatened her.”
“Did she?” She sounded amazed. “How odd.”
He turned and stared down at her with piercing dark eyes. “I’d like to hear your side of the story before I decide what to do.”
She cocked her head and studied him. “I’ll tell you, if you’re sure you want to know, boss. But I won’t sugarcoat it, even though I need this job.”