"Sometimes. But nursing can be a very gratifying career, too."
Puzzled by her comment, Ace lifted his head to peer down at her. "How would you know if you've never worked as one?"
She pulled a strip of tape over the cut, measuring the length she needed to close the wound. "I've done volunteer work as a nurse's aid in the hospital. An internship for one of my classes," she explained, then warned, "this might hurt a little."
Clamping his teeth together, he watched as she pulled the torn flesh together and applied tape over it. He was surprised to find that, in spite of her prickly and sour disposition, she had the touch of an angel. "What made you want to be a nurse?"
She measured off another strip of tape. "Taking care of my mother before she died. She didn't have insurance and had to rely on indigent care. The staff at the hospital where she was admitted was less than courteous to her and sometimes careless with the medical treatments they dispensed." She lifted a shoulder, as she pressed the strip into place. "I guess they figured since she couldn't afford to pay, she didn't deserve the same quality of care as those who could." She lifted her shoulder again. "Anyway, that's when I decided to become a nurse."
Ace thought of his own mother's hospital stays during her brief but painful fight against cancer and the five-star treatment she'd received there, and suspected that Maggie was right. "How old were you?" he asked curiously.
"Sixteen."
"Wow. Your mother must've died awfully young."
"She was thirty-one."
"Thirty-one!" he exclaimed. "But that would've made her—"
"Fifteen when she had me," she finished for him, then looked up and met his gaze squarely. "And, no, she wasn't married."
Judging by the defiant gleam in her eyes, Ace figured she was a bit touchy about her illegitimacy. "I don't recall asking whether she was married or not."
She dropped her gaze and pressed the last strip into place. "Most people do."
Ace stared at the top of her head, feeling a bit guilty because the question had been on the tip of his tongue to ask. Though he wanted to quiz her more about her mother, he decided it best, considering her touchiness, to keep his questions to himself. "So you've wanted to be a nurse since you were sixteen," he said instead.
She wound the gauze back onto the roll. "That's right."
"If you knew what you wanted to do with your life, what took you so long to begin your studies?"
She stretched to place the gauze back inside the first aid kit. "Money. Circumstances."
"What kind of circumstances?"
She rocked back on her heels to look at him in frustration. "What is this? Twenty questions?"
"Just curious."
Pursing her lips, she bent to gather the bowl and cloths. "My ex thought boozing it up with his buddies was more important than me getting an education."
Not wanting to answer any more questions about her past, Maggie rose and headed for the sink.
She took her time rinsing out the cloths and refilling the bowl with fresh water, but when she turned, she found that Ace was watching her, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Uncomfortable, she looked away as she crossed back to the table and set down the bowl. "If you'll lean your head back and close your eyes, it'll make this a lot easier."
Though she half expected him to grill her with more questions, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she eased closer to examine the cut.
Confronted with the dried mixture of dust, sweat and blood that covered most of his face, she wished that she'd had the forethought to insist that he take a shower before she began treating his wounds. And a good shampooing wouldn't have hurt, either, she thought, shifting her gaze to his hair. Thick and jet-black, it lay plastered against his head, flattened there by the cowboy hat he'd shoved off when he'd first sat down.
Cupping a hand at the back of his neck to hold his head in place while she cleaned his face, she paused, her heart softening a bit, as she looked down at him. A part of her yearned to comb her fingers through his thick, dark hair, lift the wayward lock that had fallen across his forehead and smooth it back into place.
Another wiser part knew what a mistake that would be.
Forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, she pulled the cloth from the bowl, squeezed the water from it and began to wash his face. She gently wiped the cloth across his forehead and down his cheek, removing as much of the blood and dirt as possible without causing him any more pain. As she drew the cloth along the line of his jaw, she couldn't help but notice again how prominent his features were, what a manly ruggedness they added to an already handsome face. The thick dark eyebrows. The high slash of cheekbone. The strong, square jaw. A slight crook in his nose was all that saved him from perfection.
And his mouth…
She dipped the cloth into the water again and smoothed it over his dry, parched lips, moistening them. Hearing his low moan of gratitude, she found her mind straying again, this time to wonder what his lips would feel like pressed against hers. She was sure his kisses would be hard, demanding, seductive, much like the image he projected. Mesmerized by the shape of his mouth, his lips' texture, she stilled her hand at the bow of his upper lip and stared, all but able to taste the salty sweat that beaded the skin above it, feel the rasp of his day-old beard chafing against her skin.
Heat flooded her cheeks and pooled in her belly, as the image grew. She quickly plunged the cloth into the water again, determined to keep her mind focused on his wounds. Though it was difficult, she made herself finish cleansing his face, then plucked a gauze pad from the kit and soaked it with antiseptic.
"I'm going to put on the antiseptic now," she warned.
"Do it quick. That stuff burns like—"
Before he could say more, Maggie squeezed, drizzling the liquid over his cheek.
He sat bolt upright, his eyes flipping wide. "Holy sh—!" Groaning, he clamped an arm around his middle and sank weakly back against the chair.
Knowing how much pain that movement must have caused him, Maggie laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Sorry."
"Blow," he begged. "Please."
Without questioning the wisdom of that act, she leaned over and blew softly over the cut. His relief was almost immediate, evidenced by his sigh. She felt the moist warmth of it against her cheek, heard the low, throaty sound that accompanied it in the gust of air that wafted past her ear.
Sure that the stinging sensation had eased by now, she started to draw away, but he cuffed a hand at the back of her neck, stopping her.
"Again."
Though she knew it would be wiser to refuse, the husky plea in his voice, the desperate clasp of his fingers around her neck had her inhaling a deep breath. As she blew, his scent swirled around her, filled her. The musky, masculine odors of sweat, leather and horses tangled together, clouding her mind and forming a knot of keen awareness that settled low in her belly.
It would be so easy to kiss him right now, she thought. They were so close. A slight turn of the head … a pucker. Then she'd know what his kiss was like, his taste.
Even as the tempting thought formed in her mind, she felt his fingers tighten on her neck, sensed the tensing of his body. Mortified that he had somehow read her thoughts, she snapped her gaze to his and saw that his eyes were open and focused on her. In the blue depths she saw the same heat, the same question that burned behind hers.
His gaze slid to her mouth, and heat seared her chest, her cheeks, her throat, quickened her pulse. Unconsciously, she wet her lips, and he groaned, his eyes following the arc of her tongue. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet hers.
"You know what a mistake this would be."
She didn't need to ask what he meant by this. Gulping, she nodded. "Yes … I know."
With his gaze on hers, he drew her face to his. He touched his mouth to hers once, briefly, withdrew, and inhaled deeply, as if to savor the flavors he'd found there. Then, with a groan, he opened
his mouth over hers and covered hers, capturing her lips, her very soul. The heat was instantaneous, blinding, debilitating. Closing her eyes against it, she braced her hands against his shoulders to keep from sinking weakly to her knees.
His kiss was everything she'd imagined it to be. Hard, demanding … yet gloriously seductive. His teeth nipped, his tongue soothed. Greedy, yet at the same time tender, captivating. She knew she should turn away or, at the very least, put up a halfhearted struggle, but found she couldn't. She wanted the kiss to go on and on and never end.
He cupped a hand at her hip. "Closer," he murmured, as he urged her down to his lap.
She'd barely settled there, before he was pushing her hair back over her shoulder to bury his face in the curve of her neck.
"Better," he said, with a sigh, as he dragged his tongue along the narrow channel above her collar bone.
Rocked by the sensations that flooded her, frightened by them, she dug her fingers into his shoulders. "Ace," she gasped. "You have to—"
Before she could tell him to stop, demand that he do so, he brought his mouth back to hers, silencing her. With her hips gripped between his hands, he slid down lower on the chair and stretched out his long legs, shifting her around until they were positioned chest-to-chest, groin-to-groin, thigh-to-thigh. Holding her hard against him, he thrust his tongue between her lips and stole her breath, along with whatever power she had to stop him.
Gradually she became aware of his erection thickening and lengthening between them. She could almost hear the blood rushing into it, making it swell, feel the heat that fired it, forging it into a thick shaft of steel between them. An ache throbbed to life between her legs and she rolled her hips over his erection, desperate to ease it. She heard his low groan, felt the painful dig of his fingers into her buttocks, and was sure he was suffering the same frustrations as she.
Dizzy with need, for a moment she felt as if she were falling, but was sure she was only imagining the sensation. A split second later her bottom struck the tile floor with enough momentum to jar her teeth. Stunned, she blinked open her eyes to find Ace standing over her, his arms vised around his chest, his head flung back, his teeth bared.
Fury shot through her at him treating her so carelessly. But it drained away just as quickly, when she realized the expression on his face was one of pain. Alarmed, she scrambled to her feet. "Oh, my God, Ace! Did you hurt your ribs?"
He dropped his chin to glare at her. "I didn't. You did."
She fell back a step. "Me?"
"Yes, you. With all that thrashing and grinding you were doing, if my ribs weren't busted before, they sure as hell are now."
Stunned, for a moment she could only stare. Then the anger came, filling her with a blinding rage.
"I wouldn't have been anywhere near your ribs, if you hadn't dragged me down onto your lap!"
"How the hell was I supposed to know that you were so starved for sex that you'd paw me half to death?"
Her mouth dropped open, then slammed shut with an indignant click of teeth. Taking a threatening step toward him, she stabbed a finger against the middle of his chest. "You're the desperate one. All I did was blow on your cut, just like you asked me to do. The rest was your doing."
He shoved her hand away. "And what the hell did you expect me to do, with you rubbing yourself all over me and blowing in my ear?"
"I was blowing on your cheek!"
"Same damn thing. You were—"
Cocking her head toward the hall, she threw up a hand to silence him and listened. Dropping her arm, she glared at him. "Now look what you've done."
"What?" he cried in frustration.
She spun on her heel and marched for the door. "You woke up the baby."
"Me!" he shouted after her. "You were yelling just as loud as I was!" When she didn't respond, he gave the chair an angry kick, then flopped down on it and glared at the empty doorway, his blood boiling at all the injustices that kept piling up on him.
First his old man up and dies, leaving him an estate to settle with no will to use as a guide and a ranch to manage with no ranch hands to do the work. If that wasn't bad enough, he then gets stuck with a baby he doesn't want and winds up hiring the nanny from hell to take care of the kid.
She didn't ask for the job, a small voice reminded him. You all but bulldozed her into taking it on. And, she was right about you starting all this. You were the one who pulled her down on your lap.
Ace squirmed uncomfortably at his conscience's prodding.
Okay, he admitted reluctantly. So maybe he was partially to blame for what had happened. But what man wouldn't have reacted the same as he had, if caught in a similar situation? Having a woman rubbing her hands all over you and blowing her hot breath in your ear, when you'd spent the last six months alone on a photo shoot in the remote mountains of Central America, where the closest you'd come to female companionship was an overly friendly donkey, who stole your food out of your backpack? Hell, it was a wonder he hadn't thrown Maggie down on the floor and taken her right then and there!
But sex complicated things. Always did. Ace knew that. And he sure as hell wasn't going to take a chance on getting physically involved with Maggie. He needed her to take care of the kid a lot worse than he needed an outlet for his sexual frustrations.
Exhausted from the lack of sleep he'd gotten the night before, as well as the long, hot trek back to the house, he leaned his head back with a sigh and closed his eyes, vowing a life of celibacy.
At least where Maggie was concerned.
* * *
Four
« ^ »
Ace wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard Maggie's footsteps, signaling her return. Minutes? Hours? Could've been either, because he'd lost all sense of time the second he'd closed his eyes.
Too tired to rouse himself, he asked groggily, "Was the kid okay?"
"She was fine."
He felt something soft brush his chest, a strange warmth, followed by the scent of talcum powder. Opening his eyes, he looked down to find the baby on his chest and Maggie guiding his hand to the infant's back.
He tried to wrench his hand free. "What do you think you're doing? I'm not holding this kid!"
"I can't very well hold her and wrap your ribs, too."
He narrowed an eye at her. "Like I'm gonna let you anywhere near my ribs."
Folding her arms across her chest, she looked down her nose at him. "So you've changed your mind about going to see a doctor?"
"I'm not going anywhere. Now get this kid off me."
She plucked a roll of elastic bandage from the first aid kit. "I will as soon as I've wrapped your ribs."
"But she's naked!"
"Oh, she is not," Maggie fussed. "She has a diaper on. I just took her gown off, so she could air out for awhile."
"Well, let her air out someplace else."
She looked around the room. "And where would you suggest I put her? In the refrigerator?" Frowning, she shook her head. "No, it's too full. She'd never fit. How about the sink?"
"Very funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm trying to make you see that there's no place else to put her but on your lap. You really should buy one of those infant swings. She'd like that. Tell me if this hurts," she said, and pressed her fingers lightly against his ribs.
Her touch, though light, sent pain lancing through his side. Ace would have jumped up and howled like a wounded dog, if he hadn't been afraid he'd drop the kid.
He curled his lip in a snarl. "First thing tomorrow morning I want you to go to town and buy a damn swing and whatever else this kid needs."
She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "How could I possibly refuse, with you asking so sweetly?" Losing the fake smile, she waved an impatient hand. "Now hold her out of the way, so that I can bandage your chest."
When he didn't make a move to comply, she huffed a breath, plucked his hand from the baby's back and picked the baby up herself. Unable to resist, she took a moment to nu
zzle Laura's cheek before draping a blanket over Ace's legs and laying the infant, stomach down, across his thighs.
She reached for his hand again, but he snatched it away.
"I know the drill," he growled, and spread his fingers over the baby's back, holding her in place.
With a shrug, Maggie picked up the roll of elastic bandage and placed an end in the middle of Ace's chest. "Lean forward a little," she instructed, as she moved to his side and began wrapping the tape around him.
When she'd finished, she stepped back to admire her work. "Not bad, even if I do say so myself."
"Great. Now would you please get this kid off me?" She held up a finger.
"Just give me a second to put these things away."
She quickly gathered the first aid supplies and put them back into the kit, then turned for the mudroom to return it to the chest. As she did, she shrieked and jumped back, knocking against Ace's shoulder.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" he shouted. "You almost made me drop the kid."
"There's a man—"
Before she could tell him there was a man outside the door, peering through the glass, the man in question opened the door and stepped inside.
"Did I scare you?" he asked Maggie, but was grinning as if he knew he had and thought her reaction funny.
Ace's back was to the door, making it impossible for him to see their visitor, but he must have recognized the voice.
"A face like that would scare the hell out of anybody," he grumbled.
Tossing his hat onto the counter, the stranger crossed to Maggie, his hand extended in greeting. "Rory Tanner, ma'am." He tipped his head toward Ace. "I'm this old cuss's younger and much more handsome brother."
Up close, Maggie could see the resemblance between the two, though Rory was leaner than Ace and seemed to have been blessed with a much more pleasant disposition. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, she accepted his hand. "Maggie Dean. I'm Laura's nanny."
When she tried to withdraw her hand, Rory held on. Smiling, he drew her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. "Ace told me that he'd hired someone, but he failed to mention how pretty you are."
Five Brothers and a Baby Page 5