WIFE FOR HIRE

by Amy J. Fetzer

  "Aren't you even going to look at me?" Hayley asked.

  "You still wearing that scrap of nothing you call a swimsuit?"

  "Yes, I am." He heard a light laugh. "Nash. This is silly."

  He flipped the ax up and placed another log on the stump. He split it and even without looking, he felt her flinch.

  "What did I do?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nash." He could hear the hurt in her voice. "If this is about the car—"

  "Go on back to the girls," he interrupted.

  "Gladly, boss. Enjoy your own company."

  Nash cursed under his breath. It wasn't the stupid car. It was her! Seeing her, wanting her, even arguing with her slammed desire and regret through him. The guilt over what he'd done, what honor and duty had pushed him to do at her expense made him angry. With himself.

  He didn't deserve her kindness. He didn't deserve her thoughtful gestures or her concern. Or anything else for that matter. And that he couldn't alleviate his guilt in telling the truth was a burden that wore on him the longer she was near. He wanted to, but his sins were just too ugly. She'd never forgive him, anyway, he thought, and wished the two weeks were over and she was gone. And at the same time he prayed they'd never end. Wish in one hand and spit in the other and see what you get, he thought.

  He glanced over his shoulder. She was walking down the hillside toward the pool where his daughters were having a snack in the shade of the stone veranda. He absorbed everything about her as she moved, noticing not only that she wore a cover-up over that too-hot-to-be-legal bikini, but that her head was bowed and she hugged herself.

  He felt like a first-class heel. Then his gaze fell on another splitting stump a few feet away. A pitcher of ice water sparkled in the hot sun, beside it a glass and wrapped sandwich, a little plastic horse on a toothpick stuck in the center.

  Nash groaned.

  Something had to be done. Soon. Or he was going to go just plain nuts.

  Nash rushed the horse, trying to get the animal to obey his commands, but it wasn't going well. He attributed that to his wandering mind, and that irritated him to no end. He hadn't seen Hayley since breakfast, and that had been a little strained, especially after his unfounded harshness the day before. Last night after the girls went to bed, she'd disappeared into her room, and he hadn't bothered her, afraid that whatever he said would just stamp "You're so hot, I can't even think straight" across his forehead. She made him too aware of the fact that he was a man and she was a beautiful woman.

  And how good it had once been between them. And how he'd blown it.

  He heard giggles and glanced up, catching a glimpse of Hayley and his daughters heading for the chicken coop. She was wearing jeans, boots and a lime-green T-shirt, like his girls, and he thought how cute the three of them looked. Hayley's red hair gleamed in the sunlight.

  "They sure do like her," Seth said from a few feet away.

  "Yeah," Nash said, not taking his eyes off the trio.

  "Want me to go see if they need help?"

  "She'll come for it if she needs it." One thing he remembered about Hayley was that she could do just about anything she set her mind to.

  Nash turned to the horse, swinging up onto the bare back. The wild thing bucked, sending his hat to the ground, yet he held on, riding out the mare's temper. Slipping off, he led the horse around the ring, his daughters' laughter breaking through his concentration. He glanced and waved before his gaze swung to Hayley. She looked worried. He scooped up his hat and turned back to the horse, trying to ignore her. But his gaze kept straying to her as the girls showed her how to spread a little grain on the ground, then fill the troughs for the chicken and pigs. They collected eggs and he could see Hayley's sour expression from here. He smirked. Well, at least she'll get a taste of real ranching, he thought, then remembered how Michelle had protested against going within twenty feet of the coop. He should have seen that coming, recognized her true distaste for ranching. Or was it just him? Irritated with his train of thought, especially when he could scarcely drag Michelle's image from the waste of his mind, he led the horse into the barn. He'd just handed over the currying to Jimmy when he heard his daughters scream.

  "Daddy! Come quick!"

  Racing out of the barn, Nash bolted to the pigpens and found his daughters safe beyond the fence, but Hayley was in the sty, on her rear. He leaped the rail and hurried through the mire. She tried to stand, but the pigs were crowding her, snorting over her hair and face, leaving a black muddy trail.

  "Be still!" Nash yelled. But she wasn't. She scrambled to her knees, then fell back down.

  "We haven't been properly introduced, but I think they like me," she joked, yet he heard her fear. Nash yelled and shoved at the pigs. The pigs lumbered off as he scooped her up in his arms, slung her over his shoulder and made his way out of the pens.

  "This isn't necessary. I'm capable of—"

  "Hush, woman." Unceremoniously he set her on her feet.

  She staggered back a step. "Thank you, I—"

  "What in Sam Hill possessed you to get in there?"

  She blinked up at him. "I dropped the bucket and was trying to fetch it."

  His gaze swung to his daughters. "You two didn't tell her that you are never to go in there?"

  The twins stepped back a little, not saying a word.

  "Nash—"

  He looked at Hayley. "No." His hand sliced the air.

  "They know better and it's their responsibility to tell you the rules."

  "It was my fault. I didn't even consider the danger."

  "About ten of those animals are wild boar! Didn't you see the tusks?" He pointed to the pen. "You could have been trampled and gored. You're just a little thing and obviously know nothing about pigs and how mad they can get!"

  She stepped closer, flinging mud off her arms. "So what are you upset about? That you had to stop work long enough to rescue me? That I could have been hurt and not be able to work? That I made a mistake?" She drew in a deep breath, her hands on her hips. "Or do you just need an excuse to yell at me?"

  "I'm not yelling!"

  Laughter prickled the air.

  Nash's gaze snapped to the three ranch hands leaning over the corral fence, entertained by the scene. His glare sent them back to work. He looked back at Hayley. She was covered with mud. His daughters were behind her like little stone guards.

  "Let's not talk about danger when you rode that wild horse!" She was in his face. "And at your age."

  "My age? I've been doing this all my life!"

  "Well, I've been doing this for about four days now, Nashville, so I think you should give me a break!" She spun around, grabbing the egg basket and corralling the girls before the threesome marched to the house.

  Nash tore off his hat and slammed it to the ground, his breathing heavy. Damn fool woman! She could have been killed! He paced for a few minutes, trying to get control of his heartbeat, then headed to the house.

  "Don't you dare track mud in here, Nash Rayburn," he heard her shout the instant he stepped across the threshold. "I just washed that floor!"

  He froze. "Then come here!"

  "No. Go back to work. I'm fine."

  The girls peered around the corner of the foyer wall.

  "Where is she, Kim?"

  Hesitantly Kim looked at her sister, then her dad.

  "In the bathroom," Kate said. "Cleaning up."

  Nash toed off his boots, rolled up his muddy pant legs, then strode past his daughters, who flattened against the wall. He stopped at the bathroom. The door was half-open and Hayley stood there in lime-green bra and panties, bent over the sink, washing the dirt from her arms, face and hair. She was a head full of lather and a body full of delectable bare skin. Every hormone he owned jumped up and shouted, and he was helplessly transfixed as she rinsed, reached for a towel and straightened.

  She gasped, covering herself with the towel. "Boy, you've got your nerve." She started to close the door on him.

 
His hand kept it open. Water dripped off her hair, making rivers over her shoulders to the swells of her breasts.

  "Quit looking at me like that, Nash, 'cause I don't like you very much right now."

  His gaze snapped to hers and he tried keeping it there. "That was careless."

  Her expression fused with fresh anger. "You overreacted." She grabbed her robe off a hook and turned her back, pulling it on. Then she rounded on him. "You didn't have to upbraid me in public, and the girls are too young to remember rules like that." She yanked the sash tight. "They'll bow to an adult's decision most any time." She was in his face again, poking his chest. "And you should have told me the rules."

  "I see that now." His gaze locked with hers, Nash knew he could get used to being this close to her, feeling her temper, then the fizzle of it. "I apologize."

  "Accepted."

  He frowned. "That sure as hell doesn't sound like it."

  "That's your problem. The matter is over."

  Nash stared into her eyes and knew she was saying more than that. And he didn't like it.

  "Why did you get so mad, Daddy?"

  Nash twisted around. His daughters were staring up at him, on the verge of tears. He felt like a creep and knelt to face them. "I was scared."

  "Why?" Kim asked, and he knew from experience that a series of logical questions needed to be answered before the girls were satisfied.

  "Because I thought the hogs would crush Miss Hayley."

  Clearly this was not enough explanation for his daughters. "But you yelled."

  "That happens sometimes when a person…" He searched for words they'd understand.

  "Blames themselves for the danger being there in the first place," Hayley finished for him, and Nash swung his gaze up to hers.

  "Yeah," he conceded.

  "I'm not glass, you know."

  She was. She was small and frail, and if he'd thought earlier she could handle ranch life, this just proved him wrong. "Ask Seth about getting stomped by a wild pig. They weigh about 350 pounds."

  She was shocked. But she'd never been on a ranch before, nor near so much livestock. There was a lot to learn. Not that she'd be around long enough to learn it. "Then the girls shouldn't be near them, either."

  He eyed her.

  She arched a brow. "Your gates, the pen—they're pig-stampede-proof, then? You can guarantee it?"

  He shook his head, not liking that she'd pointed out something he should have seen before now.

  Kim said, "I'm sorry, Daddy."

  He looked at the twins. "No, Daddy's sorry, baby. It's not your fault." Although he was covered in mud, he hugged them. "We'll all be extra careful next time."

  "We promise," they chimed.

  "Go on and get some juice," Hayley said, leaning around Nash. "I'll be along and we can finish the chores." They girls glanced between the adults, then left.

  "I want you to go over the details with me ASAP," she said to him. "I think you scared them."

  "I know I did."

  He looked worried about it and her anger waned. "Go on back to work, Nash. I'll smooth things over." He eyed her. "I'll make you look like a gallant knight, trust me."

  Somehow he doubted that now. "Don't go overboard. I have trouble living up to their ideals as it is." He gave her a towel. "You're still dripping." Water sparkled on her hair. He stepped closer, the heat of his body penetrating the thin terry-cloth robe.

  She didn't move a muscle. "Don't even think about it."

  He smiled tenderly, liking the breathy apprehension in her voice. "Think about what?"

  Oh, he did not do "innocent" well, she thought. "Kissing me."

  "I wasn't."

  "You lie like a rug."

  "I was thinking about doing a hell of a lot more than kissing." He bent, tucking a finger under her chin and tipping up her face. His mouth was a fraction from hers. "I'm just apologizing like any real gentleman."

  Delicious tremors swept through her, making her in-sides heavy with want. "I already accepted it."

  "Not enough." His breath scattered across her lips.

  Hayley was tempted—boy was she tempted—but self-preservation and old hurt won out. She pressed a hand to his lips, halting him. His gaze swept to hers.

  "Don't. This will lead nowhere except heartache." She was surprised she managed to get the words past her lips with him looking at her like that. "And I've been there."

  Nash realized the magnitude of what he was doing and eased back. Hadn't he spent the better part of the day chopping a cord of wood trying to avoid this? She didn't want to be part of his life. She'd made that clear before and she was doing it again now. A temporary wife. A doctor launching her new career. He should heed his own advice and be the wiser.

  Nodding mutely, he stepped a few feet away before looking back at her. He thought he saw disappointment in her eyes just then, but he couldn't be sure.

  At the soft rap on his office door, Nash muttered a response and kept entering data into the computer.

  "Hey. Want some coffee or something stronger?"

  His gaze flew to hers, then took in her damp hair and her pajamas and matching robe—dark brown with pink sheep jumping over fences. There was nothing revealing about the robe, yet all he could see was her delectable shape beneath.

  Hayley felt it. He looked between the tray and her pajamas as if she were Mata Hari holding a magnum of champagne and about to seduce the secrets of the free world from him.

  It thickened the air between them.

  "Well?"

  He blinked. "Sure."

  "Which is it?" She held up a tray with a bottle and glass on one side and a carafe of coffee on the other.

  "Coffee."

  That figures, Hayley thought. Far be it for him to stop and relax. She never knew anyone who was so driven, yet ignorant of his surroundings, expecting everyone to toe the line as hard as he did. Granted, he had the most at risk. But even she knew when it was time to kick back and sit a spell.

  Setting the tray down on the edge of his desk, careful not to disturb the papers, she poured him a cup, adding just a splash of cream.

  Nash accepted it. It was just the right color. He sipped, feeling the tension in the room grow since she'd slipped through the door.

  He tried for a safe subject. "Dinner was great, Hayley." He hadn't eaten this well since his mother had lived here.

  "Thank you, sah," she drawled. "There was a little vengeance in serving a roasted pork loin."

  He smiled into his cup. "So when did you become a culinary master?"

  She scoffed. "Necessity. The need to eat and have money for school." Her smile faded a little. "It's taken me six years to do what most people do in four. I've had to work, save, go to school, then stop and work some more till I got the money for the next semester."

  He wanted to offer her money to make it easier on her, but he knew she wouldn't accept it. "What else have you done?"

  "You name it. I'm a jack-of-all-trades," she said, reaching over to freshen his coffee. She sent him a look asking his permission as she lifted the bottle of bourbon. He nodded and she poured a swallow into the glass. "Working for Wife Incorporated fits my schedule and the pay is good."

  He relaxed back in his chair, watching as she strolled around the room, looking at trophies and framed belt buckles.

  Hayley hadn't been in here before. As he'd said on the first day, it was off-limits and she'd respected that. She glanced around, wondering if the twins ever came in here. "This is your sister, Samantha, right?" She pointed to one photo among several on the wall. He nodded. "She's beautiful." Though they'd never had the chance to meet, Hayley recognized the resemblance in the dark hair, the piercing blue eyes. And the love in the eyes of the man standing next to her. Samantha was married to a man named Daniel, the girls had mentioned.

  "Thanks, not that I had anything to do with it. She had every man for miles chasing her. Daniel caught her before my parents threatened to send her away."

  "A little too
wild?"

  He scoffed, smiling to himself. "If my father knew everything she did, he'd have sent her away the minute she started—" He stopped.

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Growing breasts?"

  "Matured," he said. She grinned and he sipped coffee, then leaned over to splash some bourbon into the cup.

  "Does your brother, Jake, live near?" She pointed to the photo of a younger version of Nash—dark hair, blue eyes and a captivating smile. He was standing with a prize-winning horse and wearing the biggest rodeo belt buckle she'd ever seen.

  "Close. Next county."

  Hayley felt his gaze follow her as she moved around the large room. The furniture was dark burgundy overstuffed leather, the coffee and end tables wrought-iron and glass. Terribly masculine and seductive, she thought. Even the shiny garnet walls and white crown molding lent an air of sensuality. Like the man, she thought, sparing him a glance. He was still watching her, his gaze sliding like silk and leaving steam behind. It wasn't fair that after all this time he could make her heart skip a beat with just a look, she thought, sipping the bourbon, feeling it warm her throat. She examined the Civil War relics on the mantel—a ball shot, the workings of a gun with small chunks of wood stock still there. Under glass in a shadow box was a pair of spectacles, a stick of graphite in a metal case like a mechanical pencil and a faded letter with its envelope.

  She peered. "It's a love letter."

  "From one of my ancestors to his wife." Nash left the chair and rounded the desk to stand beside her. "You can barely read the writing, but he mentions that they were headed to Pennsylvania." He caught a whiff of perfume and freshly washed hair. It made him ache.

  She inhaled. "Gettysburg?"

  "Yeah, he died there. This came home with his personal things and a letter from his commanding officer."

  "Oh, that's heartbreaking." She covered her heart, her look romantically sympathetic. "He never got to send the letter."

  "He left three children and a wife. Here in this house."

  She blinked up at him. "It's that old?"

  "Over 225, near as we can figure."

  "Mercy." She looked around the room as if she could see above and outside. "It's amazing your family still has it."