The afternoon was admittedly hot. But that wasn’t the cause for the furnace suddenly cranking up inside him. He looked away from the shapely butt closely outlined by pale gray fabric. “What did she sound like?”
“Who? Oh, right.” Greer pushed herself up to sit on the bench. “Her name’s Eliane. Eliane Dupre.”
“French.”
She gave him a surprised look.
“I knew an Eliane once.”
Surprise slid into something else. Something on the verge of pinched and suspicious. “Oh?”
“She was a model for Adelaide during her nudes phase.”
“Excuse me?”
“My aunt’s an artist.” And Eliane had been an incredible tutor for a horny seventeen-year-old. He didn’t share that part, though, much as he was coming to enjoy the game of keeping the lady lawyer a little off-balance. It was his one way of feeling like things were sort of even between them. “What else did you learn besides her name?”
Greer was still giving him a measuring look.
Or maybe she was just trying to keep her eye from twitching.
“She’s currently staying in Weaver. She did ask if the live-in part was negotiable. So when you talk with her, be prepared.”
“What else?”
“She’s from Switzerland. Divorced, it sounds like. And looking for a steady job. I have her phone number in my purse.”
He pushed to his feet. “Let’s do it, then.”
Greer’s expression didn’t change as she lifted Layla and stood. But he still had the sense that he’d surprised her. And not necessarily in a good way.
They went inside and she handed him a slip of paper from her purse. Then she carried Layla back outside.
To give him privacy? Or because she wasn’t interested in the conversation in the first place?
Even wondering was stupid. Pointless.
Maybe he needed more sleep.
He snatched the phone off the hook and looked at the paper.
Greer’s handwriting was slightly slanted and neat. Spare, as Adelaide would say. There were no curlicues. No extra tails or circles. While he dialed the number, his mind’s eye imagined her hand quickly recording the information on the paper.
Daisy’s handwriting had been all over the place. All loopy letters and heart-dotted i’s.
He pushed away the thought. He definitely needed more sleep.
The phone rang four times before it went to voice mail. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not. He left his name and number and hung up, then went back outside. It was hotter outside than in, but at least the air was moving.
This time Greer was sitting at the table bouncing Layla on her lap.
“No answer. I left a message.”
“I’m sure she’ll call you back. She sounded pretty interested to me.”
The wet patch on her blouse had dried. No more intriguing glimpses of white lace with blue threads. But there was a smudge of green on her thigh. “You have grass stains.”
Her eyebrows rose, then she quickly looked down at herself. She swiped her hand at the mark. “Dry cleaners will get it out. Hopefully.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath. “I should be going.”
“Back to the office, I suppose.”
She glanced at the narrow watch on her wrist. “Court should be finished for the day, but yes, I probably should go back. Start reviewing everything for tomorrow’s docket.”
“Probably.” He waited a beat, but she didn’t move an inch. “Or—”
Her gaze slid toward him.
“Or I could pull out a couple steaks.” He jerked his thumb toward the covered grill. “Throw ’em on the grill after I give Short-Stuff a badly needed bath.”
Greer’s lips parted slightly. The top one was a little fuller than the bottom, he realized.
“Or you could give her a bath,” he said casually. “If you wanted.”
Her lips twitched. “I do like steak. Medium rare.”
“I wouldn’t do well-done even if you asked.”
She ran her fingers over Layla’s curls. “You feed her after her bath?”
“Counselor, sometimes I’m feeding her ten times a day. I learned real quick there’s no point in sweating about the order of things when it comes to her.”
“My mother would love you,” she murmured. She stood with Layla. “And I’m clearly not above a bribe, whether there’s dinner payment or not.” She marched past him into the house.
He scrubbed his hand down his face and followed her inside. She was fastening Layla into the high chair.
“Have any of your cow pie stuff?”
“Not today.” He took the last banana from the holder and started peeling it. “Personally, I hate bananas, but she loves ’em.” He tossed the browning peel in the trash, then cut the fruit into small chunks and dropped them into a shallow plastic bowl that he set in front of Layla.
She was already starting to look heavy-lidded, but she dived into the bowl with both hands. “Greedy girl.” He plucked a mushy piece of banana from her cheek and fed it to her.
Greer was watching him when he turned away. “What?”
She just shook her head slightly and cleared her throat. “What else besides overripe banana? Does she still have a bottle?”
“Formula, but she wants it in her cup.” He looked in the sink.
“I loaded everything in the dishwasher.”
He pulled it open and steam spewed out. He plucked out the cup and lid, then closed the door and started it up again. He rinsed both pieces under cold water, then filled it with premixed formula. “There’s a container in the fridge with some cooked vegetables. She didn’t eat ’em last night.”
Greer went to the refrigerator and opened it.
He glanced over. “Top shelf. Red lid.”
She pulled out the glass container and peeled off the lid. “Yum. Carrots and peas.”
“Don’t knock it.” He gave Layla her sippy cup, then took the container from Greer, dumped the vegetables in a pan and set it on the stove.
“Wouldn’t the microwave be faster?”
“Yep.” He made a face as he lit the flame under the pan. “Adelaide’ll lecture me for a week about the dangers.”
“There are dangers?”
“Probably not as many as my aunt can name.” He jabbed a spoon at the vegetables. “It’s one of those lose-the-battle-win-the-war things, I think.”
“You’re in a war with the microwave?”
He chuckled. “More like a war with my aunt over the microwave. You might say she’s a little—” He broke off when the phone rang. “Eccentric,” he finished. “Watch these, would you?”
“An eccentric aunt who paints nudes and names her dog Brutus. She sounds like quite a woman. You mention her a lot.” Greer’s fingers brushed his as she took over the spoon. “Afraid I’m not much of a cook.”
“She photographs nudes,” he corrected. “Among other things. And I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook, either. But I like to eat, so—” He picked up the ringing phone. “Diamond-L.”
“Is this Mr. Wilson?” The voice was female. Accented. “I’m Eliane Dupre.”
“Eliane,” he repeated, watching Greer turn toward the stove so that her slender back was to him.
Her shoulders were noticeably tight beneath the thin, silky blouse.
Interesting.
The conversation was brief.
Greer’s back was still to him when he hung up. She was stirring the vegetables so diligently, he figured they’d end up mushier than the banana. He moved next to her and turned off the heat beneath the pan.
“I’m meeting her tomorrow over lunch at Josephine’s,” he said.
She gave him an overbright smile. “Great.” She brushed her hands down the sides of her skirt. “Yo
u know, I just remembered I do have to go back to the office before tomorrow morning. So I’m going to have to pass on the bribery, after all.” As she spoke, she was backing out of the kitchen, stopping only long enough to lean over and kiss Layla’s head as she passed.
“You sure?” He tested the vegetables. Definitely mushy. But at least not too hot. He dumped some into Layla’s now-empty banana bowl.
Greer’s head bobbed. “I’m sure. Let me know how it, uh, how it goes tomorrow.” She grabbed her purse that was sitting on the couch and clutched it to her waist with both hands.
“Will do.”
“Great.” Her head bobbed a few more times. “Well, good...good luck.” She quickly turned on her bare feet and hurried to the front door.
“By the way, what did she have?”
She’d made it to the vestibule and she gave him a startled look. “Excuse me?”
“Your sister.”
She looked even more deer-in-the-headlights. “Maddie! She had a boy. Seven pounds, thirteen ounces. Twenty-one inches long. They named him Liam Gustav after Linc’s grandfather. Mommy and son are doing well.” She smiled quickly and yanked open the front door. “Daddy is, reportedly, a basket case.” She lifted her hand in a quick wave and darted out the door, closing it behind her.
He waited.
But she didn’t come back.
Even though her feet were bare, since her high-heeled pumps were still out back, lying in the grass.
He looked at Layla.
She was plucking a pea out of the carrots with one hand and clutching her pink cup with the other.
“Interesting, indeed,” he told her.
She smacked her cup against the high chair tray and gave him a beatific smile. “Bye bye bye bye!”
“You got that right, Short-Stuff. She sure did go bye-bye.” He chucked her lightly under the chin. “But I’m betting she’ll be back.”
Chapter Eight
“What the hell did you do to your feet?”
Greer looked up to see Ali standing in the doorway to her office and yanked her feet down from where they were propped on the corner of her desk. “Nothing.” She tugged her black skirt down around her knees.
“You have bandage strips all over the soles of your feet.”
“I know you’re in uniform, but you can stop the interrogation. Bandage strips aren’t a criminal offense.” Greer slid her feet into the shoes under her desk. She was still embarrassed over the way she’d raced out of Ryder’s place the evening before. She didn’t particularly want to explain why to her sister. “What brings you to the dark side?”
“Glad you’re finally ready to admit the truth about your work.” Ali grinned and threw herself down on the chair inside the doorway. She leaned back and propped her heavy department-issue boots on the corner of the desk.
“Hey!” Greer shoved at them. “Just because I did, doesn’t mean you can. Have a little respect, please.”
“For the dark side? Never.” She put her feet on the floor, still smiling.
“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Greer complained. “If you’ve come to brag about the latest night or morning or afternoon of hot sex you’ve had with your new husband, spare me.”
Ali looked at her fingernails. “Well, it is pretty brag-worthy,” she drawled.
“Save me.”
“You don’t need saving. You need sexing.”
“Ali, for God’s sake.”
Her sister laughed silently. “Your chain is so easy to yank these days.”
“And if you weren’t pregnant, I’d yank yours but good. Speaking of.” She pinned her sister with her fiercest lawyer look. “Have you told Grant?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Between looking like he wanted to pass out and suddenly treating me like I’m made of Dresden Porcelain, I think he’s pretty much okay with it.” Her expression sobered. “He still needs to create some kind of relationship with Layla, though. He’s not going to let it go, Greer. He can’t.”
“Nor should he even think he has to.” She dropped her head onto her hands, pressing her fingertips into her scalp. She exhaled and lifted her head. “Ryder’s coming along, Ali.” She hoped. “Is that what you came here to find out?”
“Actually, I came here to invite you to lunch. Josephine’s. On me.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re not living only on a public servant’s salary anymore. You have a bestselling thriller writer as a husband now.”
“Poke as much as you want. Do you care for a free lunch or don’t you?”
“I do.” She glanced at her watch. “It’ll have to be quick, though. I have less than an hour before I need to be over at the courthouse.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ali pushed to her feet. “I know the drill. Josephine’s pretty much makes a living off the police department and the courthouse. It’s always quick.” She waited while Greer collected her purse and they left her office. “Seriously.” Ali gave her a sidelong look. “What is going on with your feet? You’re limping. You didn’t actually fall through one of the floorboards in the kitchen, did you?”
“Of course not. I just, uh, just broke a glass.”
Ali pushed through the entrance door first. “You never could lie for squat.” She stopped short. “Hello, Mr. Towers. Out enjoying the weather?” She smiled the same sweet smile she’d used all her life when she didn’t particularly like someone. “I’ve heard you like things hot.”
Michael looked right through Ali to focus on Greer. “I learned that you didn’t take the plea on Dilley.”
“The client refused.”
Her boss looked particularly annoyed. “I told you to plead them all.”
“I cannot force a client to accept a deal! Particularly one that isn’t even a good deal. Come on, Michael. We’re better than that, aren’t we?”
His jaw flexed. His gaze slid to Ali, then back to Greer. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said brusquely and pushed past them, going inside.
“How do you stand working for him?” Her sister made no effort to lower her voice.
Greer closed her hand around Ali’s arm, squeezing as she pulled her farther away from the office. “Michael has a lot on his plate.”
“Yeah, Stormy Santiago, from what I hear.”
“It’s a big case.”
“Considering he’s sleeping with her, yeah.”
Greer dropped her hand from her sister’s arm. “What?”
Ali gave her an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors.”
“Michael Towers is not sleeping with Stormy Santiago,” Greer said under her breath. “He could get disbarred!”
“And maybe he should.” Ali’s voice was flat. Disregarding the fact that she was jaywalking, Ali set off across the street, leaving Greer to catch up.
“He’s also happily married,” Greer said when they reached the sidewalk on the other side.
Ali just shook her head. “And I thought Maddie was the naive one. Maybe you’re just so busy with your clients that you can’t notice what’s going on right in your own office.” She pulled open the door to Josephine’s and gestured. “Age before beauty, dear sister.”
Greer went inside, only to stop short at the sight of Ryder sitting in a booth across from a very attractive blonde.
Ali practically bumped into her. But she couldn’t fail to notice, either. “Who is that?”
“Eliane Dupre,” she said in a low voice, steering her sister toward an empty booth on the opposite side of the nearly full restaurant.
“And who is Eliane Dupre?” Ali asked with an exaggerated accent once they were seated. She looked over her shoulder in Ryder’s direction.
Maybe the next Mrs. Ryder Wilson.
Greer kept the thought to herself. “Don’t stare. They might
notice you.”
Ali looked back at her and spread her hands. “So?”
“Eliane is interested in the nanny position. She responded to one of the notices I placed for Ryder.”
“Ah.”
“Mrs. Pyle must be back. Otherwise he’d have Layla with him.”
“Too bad. I would’ve loved a chance to see her.”
Greer snatched one of the laminated menus out from where they were tucked against the sugar shaker and the bottles of ketchup and hot sauce. It didn’t matter that she knew the contents by heart. She still made a point of reading it. Or pretending to read it.
“How’s that new baby doing?” Josephine herself said, stopping at the table and without asking, setting glasses of water in front of them before flipping over both of their mugs to slosh steaming coffee into them.
“Liam’s perfect,” Ali said. Her gaze slid over Greer. “Went over to see them at the hospital yesterday evening. Maddie’s supposed to be released today sometime.”
“Give her and Linc my best when you see them. You two know what you’d like today?”
“French dip,” Ali said immediately. It was pretty much what she always ordered.
“Chef’s salad.” It was pretty much what Greer always ordered, too. She slid the menu back where it belonged.
“Coming up.” Josephine headed back toward the kitchen.
“I suppose that was a dig about me not going to the hospital last night.”
“It wasn’t a dig. More like a...curiosity. I was there for a few hours. Mom and Dad came by. Vivian. Squire and Gloria Clay. Fortunately, Vivian had already left before they got there. We all sort of just assumed you’d show up after court was through for the day.”
Greer grimaced. “I wasn’t in court yesterday afternoon. Keith Gowler stepped in for me. Did I tell you that he and Lydia Oakes are getting married?”
Ali wasn’t sidetracked. “You took off work? That’s the second time this month. You never do that.”
“Well, I did. I’ll go see Maddie and the baby tonight when they’re home.” From across the busy diner, she heard a laugh and looked over toward Ryder’s booth. His back was to her. But that only meant she had a perfect view of the fair Eliane.
The Rancher's Christmas Promise Page 11