Live-In Mom

by Paige, Laurie

  It would be nice to have someone who liked ranch living, who didn’t mind real work as opposed to planning a charity ball, who would love him and his son-

  Damn Shane for putting ideas in his head. Neither of them knew a thing about the woman his brother had hired and sent to the ranch without a single reference. Except she’d responded to his kiss as if they were made for each other.

  “You’re awfully introspective.”

  Carly glanced at her friend and sighed. Isadora Chavez was an actress—beautiful, poised and with presence, as one critic had put it. Isa had been her best friend since high school.

  The two friends sat in the dining room of the lodge at the Rogue Mountain Resort. They’d eaten breakfast and now lingered over coffee and the Sunday paper. Isa’s teenage brother had spent the night with friends, so they were alone.

  Carly put down the financial section of the paper and gazed into the distance. The view was wonderful. “Did you ever get the feeling you’ve bitten off more than you could chew?”

  Isa laughed. “Only on opening night of every play and every night thereafter.” She laid the comics on the table and poured them each another cup of coffee from the insulated carafe the waitress had left. “So tell me what you’ve bitten off.” she invited. “Has it to do with this crazy idea of working on a ranch instead of resting?”

  “Yes. No. Sort of.”

  “Hmm, profound, I see.”

  Carly made a face at her friend.

  “So, what’s happening?” Isa sipped her coffee and gazed at Carly with a worried frown.

  “The work isn’t the problem,” Carly said glumly.

  Isa’s delicate winged brows, which Carly had always secretly envied, rose a fraction. “Oh?” she said.

  “Well, it is, but not in that way.” She sighed and gazed out at the mountains surrounding the long, rolling valley. A lone cloud loitered over the top of a nearby peak. Ski trails cut through the fir and pine trees on the steep slopes. The resort was prosperous and busy with hiking groups and nature lovers.

  “For heaven’s sake, will you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Did you ever hear of mad infatuation at first touch?”

  “Ah.” Isa laid a hand to her breast and quoted from Shakespeare, “‘Whoever loved, that loved not at first… touch?’”

  “Get that gleam out of your eye. I’m not in love. It’s just that…whenever I see him, I have this insane desire to touch him…and have him touch me. It’s a sort of primitive lust.”

  “Hmm.”

  “He feels it, too. It’s baffling.”

  “Has he… did you… how serious is it?”

  “Not that serious.” Carly picked up her cup and hid behind it while she confessed. “We kissed once. But that was all,” she added quickly. Isa looked relieved. She tended to worry about other people, probably because she’d had her dad and brother to take care of since she was ten or eleven. Her mother had died early. So had her father. She’d raised her brother alone for years.

  “Isa, it was scary. I went all weak and shaky inside. I wanted him to keep kissing me.” Carly gave her friend a puzzled, desperate look.

  “Who is he? One of the cowboys?”

  Carly shook her head. “Worse. Ty Macklin.”

  “Oh, Carly.” Isa was all sympathy. “The Macklin men have a reputation for being hard and cynical.”

  “The oldest brother—the one who’s the sheriff—is married now. He was very nice when I interviewed for the job.”

  “He has to be. He’s a public figure. I’ve heard the other one has become harder since his divorce, a woman-hater.”

  Carly pictured the laughing man who teased the other workers and who’d kissed her. She sighed. “Daydreaming about him is stupid. Nothing can come of it, but when he’s around, I get all fluttery and dithery.” She looked up, bemused. “That can’t be love. Can it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They fell silent. Carly felt bad because she’d probably called up painful memories for Isa with her silly tale about Ty and herself. Isa’s fiancé had walked out when she’d refused to put her brother in a foster home four years ago.

  Men. Who needed them?

  “Well, it’s almost noon.” Isa stretched and began gathering her things from the chair and table. “It’s time for me to head back to the condo. Do you stay in a bunkhouse at the ranch?”

  “Actually, in a house with two other women. It’s sparse, but nice. It reminds me of a camp I attended one summer. The aunt and uncle I was staying with wanted to go on a cruise, so they sent me to a neat place in the mountains. It was fun.”

  Isa folded the paper and slipped into her jacket. “Be careful,” she said with a worried frown at her friend.

  “I will. I never do anything rash.”

  After they said their farewells and Isa left, Carly lingered at the resort. It was the perfect place for a gift boutique, she realized, forcing her mind to practical considerations. She spent most of the day checking out the stores in the lodge, then stopped and bought a chicken dinner on the way to the ranch. She’d have a picnic by the river, she decided, while she gave serious thought to her future.

  After parking her car beside the frame house, she took her supper and started off, walking east along an old orchard before cutting through to the river. On the grassy bank, she sat down to eat her meal in the solitude of late afternoon sunshine while she made plans for her store.

  The resort was the ideal location. She’d start checking on it right away. She nodded in satisfaction. Having a definite goal was good. It made her feel more settled, more secure. She yawned and scooted into a comfortable posi tion. Her lashes drifted down.

  Ty hung up the telephone in relief. Jonathan was booked to come home the following week. He’d be glad to see his son. God, if he missed him this much during the few weeks he’d spent away from the ranch, what would he do when the kid went off to college or moved out on his own?

  Probably become emotional and embarrass the boy to death. It was bad enough when a kid’s mom broke down and cried in front of all his friends, but it was awful if his dad did it.

  He managed a wry chuckle. Leaving the house, he stopped on the lawn and gazed over the lush, rolling pastures marching along the river and all the way to the mountains.

  As he often did when alone, he walked the land, alert for fungus and diseases that could destroy the grass or the herd. He liked working with nature… or contending with it.

  A late snow in the spring had delayed moving the cattle to higher pastures, and the grass had been overgrazed, but it had recovered okay. He’d left a lighter herd on it during the summer. October rains had replenished the fields. Now, with a late Indian summer, things were looking good.

  With a satisfied nod, he continued his stroll.

  When he came to the river, he watched its swift passage for a time, noting the drop in its level. Most of the snowpack had melted from the mountains weeks ago. Soon winter would build it up again for another year.

  Another year.

  Jonathan would go to regular school soon. He’d been sick a lot last year with colds. The doctors had suggested home tutoring for a few months. By next month, the boy would be caught up with his first-grade class, and the medical men thought he could try regular school again. Ty was a little hesitant. After nearly losing Jonathan, Ty wasn’t taking any chances with his son.

  Walking on, he rounded a gentle curve in the bank and stopped. For a long minute, he observed the woman sleeping by the gurgling water. Carly Lightfoot. Cook’s helper. Temptress. Enigma. The few facts he knew about her didn’t jibe. He walked over and sat on the grass, waiting for her to wake.

  The first thing Carly saw when she opened her eyes was Ty Macklin, seated beside her, as still as a cat sitting beside a mouse hole in a field. She gasped and sat up.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said with a smile that was not exactly friendly but not exactly… well, she couldn’t tell what it was exactly, just tha
t it gave her a chill. “I hope you don’t mind my joining you?”

  Her heart pounded wildly while she stared at the man who’d haunted her dreams for a week. Something about this encounter did not bode well. “Not at all,” she finally murmured.

  He sat a couple of feet from her, his legs crossed In dian-fashion and his elbows resting on his thighs.

  She noticed he toyed with a long blade of grass. His hands were big but elegant, the fingers long, with a smooth grace to their movements. They’d been gentle when he’d touched her. So had his kiss, even though it had started in anger.

  But it had ended in something else—She stopped the inane thought, pulled her gaze from his hands and looked into his eyes.

  He stared at her intently. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if he could see every libidinous notion in her head.

  She couldn’t figure out what had triggered this ridiculous attraction. During her years in the city, she’d been exposed to men who were handsome and successful without having a single flutter. So why was she having them now?

  “How was your first week?” he asked.

  “Fine.” At his shrewd glance, she added, “Except for my arms, shoulders and legs aching at night. Other than that, it was a piece of cake.”

  Her confession drew a wry laugh from him. “When my father put me to work holding calves while they were branded, I thought my arms were going to fall off the first day. By the third, I wished they would.”

  She was skeptical of his childhood. “Did you actually work the ranch?”

  He nodded.

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve when I started really working. I was big for my age,” he said when she frowned at this information. “Before that, I pulled the water wagon for a couple of years. I was always glad when school started so I could quit.”

  Curious about his past, she started questioning him. “Were you a good student?”

  His grin was quick and dazzling. “Yes. Dad’s punishment for low grades was to make us boys work longer and harder. When I figured that out, my grades improved by leaps and bounds.”

  Carly had to smile at his droll expression. If she hadn’t sworn off men, she would have fallen for this one. But having talked it over with Isa, she had everything under control.

  She noticed he was watching her, observing her features as intently as an artist would study a painting. A tiny thrill went through her. She couldn’t tell if it was fear or desire.

  He reminded her of a wild creature, sleek muscled and ready to spring. She sensed a restlessness in him, a hunger for a part of life that was missing from his. She saw it in his eyes.

  At that same instant, she knew what it was, for she felt it, too. Loneliness. And passion.

  It sizzled between them. The air suddenly seemed too hot to inhale, and her mouth went as dry as cactus fuzz.

  “Yet, in spite of your childhood, you took over the ranch.” Her voice came out husky, sexy.

  “I like growing things.”

  The quiet statement, the deep sense of satisfaction in his voice and in his gaze as he glanced at the acres of pastures, told her he did. The knowledge did strange things to her heart.

  “The workers are happy here,” she ventured. “Do you bribe Elena and Martha to sing your praises?”

  “I’ve never had to pay a woman for anything.”

  His direct look challenged her to make something of his swift innuendo. She started to make a remark about his ex-wife, but stopped herself in time. His past was none of her business.

  “Then perhaps you’ve had things too easy since you became an adult,” she suggested, an understated challenge in the words.

  One dark eyebrow rose fractionally, and a flicker of emotion whipped through his eyes and was gone. “Maybe,” he agreed. “Why do I have the feeling that’s about to change?”

  She shrugged. Why, indeed? Because there was something that pulsed to life each time they met, something she wanted to reach for, the same way she wanted to touch him.

  His eyes locked with hers. Again the air sizzled between them. She couldn’t be imagining it. It was too strong, too earthy and elemental, not to be real. He felt it, too.

  Or was he faking it? Was this his manner with women, to make them think they, and they alone, wakened some slumbering passion in him? She’d been fooled by a man’s ardor once before.

  “Where are you from?” he asked suddenly.

  “Chicago.”

  “Do your parents live there?”

  “They’re dead. I lived with an aunt when I was growing up in a small town in western Illinois.”

  “What did you do before you came here?”

  His questions came rapid-fire, like an inquisition. The suspicion in his eyes was clear, but what did he suspect her of?

  “If this is an interview, you’re too late. I’ve already been hired.” She gave her hair a toss over her shoulder.

  “There’s something here that doesn’t fit.” He narrowed his eyes as he thought it over. “I’ll figure it out”.

  Puzzled, she tried to figure him out. “Let me know when you do,” she finally said.

  “You look familiar,” he told her.

  She shook her head. “I haven’t been in this area before.”

  “You remind me of the cover girl on the farm magazine I got last week. Did you ever do any modeling?”

  “No.”

  Shaking her head firmly, she saw his gaze go to her hair. It was loose, tumbling down her back and probably full of tangles from her nap.

  “You have the looks for it.” A cynical hardness coated the compliment. “A certain wholesomeness that’s popu lar now.”

  “Hmm, maybe I should try it, except I’d have to go to New York to be a model, wouldn’t I?” She grimaced to show her dislike of that idea.

  “Doesn’t the city appeal to you?”

  “No.”

  The conversation had entered a different sphere as he probed into her personal life in the way she’d done with his. The tension inside her increased. His expression was unreadable, but she felt certain he wasn’t asking questions out of mere curiosity.

  “What does?”

  The undertone in the softly spoken inquiry touched a chord in her and set it to vibrating, but she’d learned to handle sexual innuendo years ago. She smiled lazily and shrugged. “Um, I don’t think I’m going to answer that.”

  “Then I’ll have to find out on my own.” There was no mistaking his intention of doing just that. He looked her over, as if assessing every quirk of character, every trait and flaw she possessed. “Excitement? Danger, perhaps,” he mused aloud. “Some people thrive on it.”

  “The adrenaline rush,” she murmured. “No, thanks. I like my life quiet and sane.”

  She’d watched some friends bungee jump. They became addicted to the thrill of it. She wasn’t one of them.

  “Is that why you’re here?” His expression had hardened ever so slightly. “For the quiet?”

  She lifted her head and gave him a cool glance, then watched the river again. “Yes.”

  The only danger was losing her head over him.

  “You’ve seemed nervous each time I’ve seen you. Is it only when I’m around?”

  She pressed a hand to her breast, looked at him and gave a great sigh. “Be still, my heart,” she murmured, her glance openly mocking his vanity.

  His ears turned pink. Well, at least he had the grace to realize how conceited his question had sounded. When he grinned, her heart turned over. “I shake when I’m around you,” he said softly, suggestively, sexily.

  “Hmm, maybe that’s what makes me nervous. I’m wary in the presence of a known predator.”

  He smiled sardonically. “Don’t worry. I choose my quarry carefully…and I always give warning before I pounce.”

  She rose, aware of his gaze sliding over her before flicking back to her face, aware that if she baited him past a certain point, she would have to live with the consequences. Yet she wasn’t af
raid of him. Of herself, yes. Of him, no.

  “But I don’t,” she said, and walked off.

  Her heart was pounding fiercely. Behind her, she heard him laugh, a deep, husky chuckle that made her want to rush to him and not look back.

  Chapter Four

  The house was dark when Ty entered by the back door. He flicked on a light in the kitchen. The place was gleaming and smelled of lemon cleanser. Martha, who looked after the house, did a good job. Other than that one concession to need, he and Jonathan bached it on their own.

  He wondered if his son missed a woman’s touch in the house and realized that he did. His mother had been a wonderful woman, mediating her husband’s tendency to harshness with a gentle hand. The ranch had been her favorite locale, and she’d made their home a warm and welcoming place.

  His former wife had remodeled the kitchen before they’d built a new home closer to town and her friends. She’d liked to cook and had done it well. During the first year of marriage, he’d been eager to come home at the end of the day.

  He frowned, then sighed. Somehow, it had all gone wrong. She’d grown dissatisfied with their life, which revolved around the weather and the seasons, the ranch and the cattle, never mind that the money for the vacations and shopping trips she’d wanted came from those very things.

  He cursed silently and put the memories aside. He’d gotten Jonathan out of the deal. His son had been worth the large divorce settlement and the pain of knowing it wasn’t him but his name and money that his wife had wanted. He’d be damned glad when the boy came home.

  He peered into the refrigerator and got out the makings of a sandwich. When his son was home, they ate in the ranch kitchen. Then he pored over the endless paperwork while Jonathan did his homework. They had a good life.

  The silence of the house mocked that observation.

  Life was just the way he wanted it, he reminded himself. No women to clutter it up. If he felt the need for company, he could visit Shane and Tina, Martha and Buck or other friends.

  He piled ham and cheese on whole-wheat bread, added some carrot sticks and pickles to the plate, grabbed a beer and went into the family room to eat. He flicked on the TV to catch the weather before the news went off, then left it on to fill the silence until it was time for bed.