by Diana Palmer
John sighed. “I wish he’d hired her to do the tax work on the payroll instead. She’s a natural, and since she’s a retired accountant that experience would make her an asset. We have a firm of C.P.A.’s to do yearly stuff, but our bookkeeper who did payroll got married and moved to L.A. just before we hired you.”
“And Miss Parsons got hired to look after the girls. She really dislikes children,” she added.
“I know. But Gil refuses to believe it. He’s been lax about work at the ranch for a while. He stayed on the road more and more, avoiding the memories after Darlene died. I felt bad for him, but things were going to pot here. I have to travel to show the bulls,” he added, “because the more competitions we win, the higher the prices we can charge for stud fees or young bulls. The ranch can’t run without anybody overseeing it.” He pursed his lips as he studied her. “I gather that you said something to him about neglecting the girls. I thought so,” he mused when she shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve told him, too, but he didn’t listen to me. Apparently he listens to you.”
“He’s already tried to fire me once,” she pointed out.
“You’re still here,” he replied.
“Yes. But I can’t help but wonder for how much longer,” she murmured, voicing her one real fear. “I could go back and live with my aunt, but it isn’t fair to her. I have to work and support myself. This was the only full-time job that I was qualified for. Jobs are thin on the ground, regardless of the reports coming out about how great the economy is.”
“How did you end up in Medicine Ridge in the first place?” he wondered.
“I was living with my aunt in Billings when I saw the ad for this job in the local paper. I’d already been all over Billings hoping for a full-time job and couldn’t find one. This one seemed tailor-made for me.”
“I’m glad you applied for it,” he said. “There were a lot of candidates, but we ruled out most of them in less than five minutes each. You were the only woman out there who could even type.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. They thought I wanted beauty instead of brains. I didn’t.” He smiled. “Not that you’re bad on the eyes, Kasie. But I wasn’t running a pageant.”
“I was surprised that your brother hired me,” she confessed. “He seemed to dislike me on sight. But when he found out how fast I could type, he was a lot less antagonistic.”
He wasn’t going to mention what Gil had said to him after he hired Kasie. It had been against Gil’s better judgment, and he’d picked her appearance and her pert manner to pieces. It was interesting that Gil was antagonistic toward her. Very interesting.
“You’re a whiz at the computer,” John said. “A real asset. I didn’t realize what you could do with a spreadsheet program until you modified ours. You’re gifted.”
“I love computers,” she said with a smile. “Pauline is going to enjoy them, too, when she learns just a little more. Once she discovers the Internet, she’ll be even more efficient. There are all sorts of Web sites dedicated to the cattle industry. It would be great for comparisons—even for buying and selling bulls. You could have your own Web site.”
John let out a low whistle. “Funny, I hadn’t even considered that. Kasie, it might revolutionize the way we do business, not to mention cutting down on the amount of travel we have to do every year.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” she said, smiling at him.
“Mention it to Gil when you go to the movies,” he coaxed. “Let’s see what he thinks.”
“He might like the idea better if it came from you,” she said.
“I think he’ll like it, period. I already do. Can you make a Web site?”
She grimaced. “No, I can’t. But I know a woman who can,” she added. “She works out of Billings. I met her when we were going to secretarial school. She’s really good, and she doesn’t charge an arm and a leg. I can get in touch with her, if you like.”
“Go ahead. We do a lot of communication by e-mail, but neither of us even thought about putting cattle on our own site. It’s a terrific idea!”
“You sound like Bess,” Gil said from the doorway. “What’s terrific?”
“We’re going on the Internet,” John said.
His big brother frowned. “The Internet?”
“Kasie can tell you what she’s proposed. It could open new doors for us in marketing. It’s international.”
Gil was quick. He caught on almost at once. “You mean, get a Web site and use it to buy and sell cattle,” he said.
“It will save you as much time as sending e-mail back and forth between potential buyers and sellers already does,” she added.
“Good idea.” Gil studied her with a curious smile. “Full of surprises aren’t you, Miss Mayfield?”
“She’s gifted,” John said, grinning at his brother. “I told you so. Now maybe you can stop talking about firing her, hmm?”
Gil pressed his lips together and refused to rise to the bait. “It’s almost one o’clock. If we’re going to the movies, let’s go. Kasie, fetch the girls.”
She almost saluted, but he looked vaguely irritated. It looked as though nothing she suggested was ever going to please him. She wondered why she didn’t just walk out and leave him to it. The thought was painful. She went up to get the little girls, more confused than ever.
Chapter 4
The girls chattered like birds all the way to town in Gil’s black Jaguar. Kasie sat in front and listened patiently, smiling, while they told her all about the movie they were going to see. They’d seen the previews on television when they watched their Saturday morning cartoons.
It was a warm, pretty day, and trees and shrubs were blooming profusely. It should have been perfect, but Kasie was uneasy. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned anything about Web sites, but it seemed an efficient way for Gil and John to move into Web-based commerce.
“You’re brooding,” Gil remarked. “Why?”
“I was wondering if I should have suggested anything about Internet business,” she said.
“Why not? It’s a good idea,” he said, surprising her. “John told me about the Web site designer. Tomorrow, I want you to get in touch with her and get the process started.”
“She’ll need you to tell her what you want on the site.”
“Okay.”
She glanced in the back seat where the girls were sharing a book and enthusing over the pop-up sections.
“I brought it home for them yesterday,” he commented, “and forgot to give it to them. They love books.”
“That’s the first step to getting them to love reading,” she said, smiling at the little heads bowed over the books. “Reading to them at night keeps it going.”
“Did your mother read to you?” he asked curiously.
“She probably did,” she mused, smiling sadly. “But Kantor and I were very young when she and our father…died. Mama Luke read to us, when we were older.”
“I suppose you liked science fiction,” he murmured.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“You love computers,” he said with a hint of a smile.
“I guess they do fit in with science fiction,” she had to admit. She eyed him curiously. “What sort of books did you like to read?”
“Pirate stories, cowboy stories. Stuff like that. Now, it’s genetics textbooks and management theory,” he added wryly. “I hardly ever have time to read just for fun.”
“Do your parents help you with the ranch?”
He seemed to turn to ice. “We don’t talk about our parents,” he said stiffly.
That sounded odd. But she was already in his bad books, so she didn’t pursue it. “It’s nice of you to take the girls to the movies.”
He slowed for a turn, his expression taut. “I don’t spend enough time with them,” he said. “You were right about that. It isn’t a lack of love. It’s a lack of delegation. You’d be amazed how hard it is to find good managers who want to live on a cattle ran
ch.”
“Maybe you don’t advertise in a wide enough range,” she suggested gently.
“What?”
She plunged ahead. “There are all sorts of trade magazines that carry ads with blind mailboxes,” she said. “You can have replies sent to the newspaper and nobody has to know who you are.”
“How do you know about the trade magazines?” he asked.
She grinned sheepishly. “I read them. Well, I ought to know something about cattle, since I work for a ranch, shouldn’t I?”
He shook his head. “You really are full of surprises, Kasie.”
“Kasie, what’s this big word?” Bess asked, thrusting the book at her. Kasie took it and sounded the word out phonetically, coaching the little girl in its pronunciation. She took the book back and began to teach the word to Jenny.
“You’re patient,” Gil remarked. “I notice that Miss Parsons doesn’t like taking time to teach them words.”
“Miss Parsons likes numbers.”
“Yes. She does.” He pulled into the theater parking lot, which was full of parents and children. He got everyone out and locked the door, grimacing as they walked past several minivans.
“They’re handy for little kids,” Kasie said wickedly. “Mothers love them, I’m told.”
“I love my kids, but I’m not driving a damned minivan,” he muttered.
She grinned at his expression. The little girls ran to get in line, and struck up a conversation with a child they knew, whose bored mother perked up when she saw Gil approaching.
“Hi, Gil!” she called cheerily. “We’re going to see the dinosaur movie! Is that why you’re here?”
“That’s the one,” he replied, pulling bills out of his wallet. He gave one to each of the little girls, and they bought their own tickets. Gil bought his and Kasie’s as they came to the window. “Hi, Amie,” he called to the little girl with Bess and Jenny, and he smiled. She smiled back. She was as dark as his children were fair, with black eyes and hair like her mother’s.
“We’re going to sit with Amie, Daddy!” Bess said excitedly, waving her ticket and Jenny’s.
“I guess that leaves me with you and…?” the other woman paused deliberately.
“This is Kasie,” Gil said, and took her unexpectedly by the arm, with a bland smile at Amie’s mom. “You’re welcome to join us, of course, Connie.”
The other woman sighed. “No, I guess I’ll sit with the girls. Nice to have seen you,” she added, and moved ahead with the girls, looking bored all over again.
Gil slid his hand down into Kasie’s. She reacted nervously to the unexpected touch, but his fingers clung, warm and strong against her own. He drew her along to the line already forming alongside the velvet ropes as the ticket takers prepared to let people through to the various theaters.
“Humor me,” he said, and it looked as though he were whispering sweet nothings into her ear. “I’m the entrée, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Kasie glanced around and saw a number of women with little children and no man along, and two of them gave him deliberate, wistful glances and smiled.
“Single moms?” she whispered back, having to go on tiptoe.
He caught her around the waist and held her against his hip. “No. Get the picture?”
Her breath caught. “Oh, dear,” she said heavily.
He looked down into her wide eyes. “You’re such a child sometimes,” he said softly. “You don’t see ugliness, do you? You go through life looking for rainbows instead of rain.”
“Habit,” she murmured, fascinated by the pale blue lights in his eyes.
“It’s a rather nice habit,” he replied. The look lasted just a few seconds too long to be polite, and Kasie felt her heart begin to race. But then, the line shifted and diverted him. He moved closer to the ticket-taker, keeping the girls ahead carefully in sight while his arm drew Kasie along with him.
She liked the protectiveness of that muscular arm. He didn’t look like a body-builder, all his movements were lithe and graceful. But he worked at physical labor from dawn until dusk most days. She’d seen him throw calves that had to be doctored. She’d seen him throw bulls, too. He was strong. Involuntarily she relaxed against him. It was delicious, the feeling of security it gave her to be close to him, to the warm strength of him.
The soft movement caught him off guard and sent a jolt of sensation through him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He looked down at her with curious, turbulent eyes that she didn’t see. She was smiling and waving at the girls, who were darting off down into the theater with the little girl and her mother.
“They like you,” he said.
“I like them.”
He handed their tickets to the uniformed girl, who smiled as she handed back the stubs and pointed the way to the theater that was showing the cartoon movie.
Gil caught Kasie’s hand in his and drew her lazily along with him through the crowd of children and parents until they reached the theater. But instead of going down to the front, he drew Kasie to an isolated double-seat in the very back row and sat down beside her. His arm went over the back of the chair as the theater darkened and the previews began showing.
Kasie was electrified by the shift in their relationship. She felt his lean fingers on her shoulder, bringing her closer, and his cheek rested against her temple. She hadn’t ever been to a movie with a man. There had been a blind double date once, and the boy sat on his own side of the seat and looked nervous until they got home again. This was worlds away from that experience.
“Comfortable?” he asked at her ear, and his voice was like velvet.
“Yes,” she said unsteadily.
His chest rose and fell and he found himself paying a lot more attention to the feel of Kasie’s soft hair against his skin than the movie. She smelled of spring roses. Her hair was soft, and had a faint herbal scent of its own. Twenty-two. She was twenty-two. He was thirty-two, and she’d already said that he was too old for her.
He scowled as he thought about that difference. She needed someone as young as she was, with that same vulnerable, kind, generous spirit. He had two little girls and a high-pressure business that gave him little free time. He was still grieving, in a way, for Darlene, whom he’d loved since grammar school. But there was something about Kasie that made him hungry. It wasn’t desire, although he was aware of heady sensations when she was close to him. No, it was the sort of hunger a man got when he was standing outside in the snow with a wet coat and soaked jeans, looking through the window at a warm, glowing fireplace. He couldn’t really explain the feelings. They made him uneasy.
He noticed that she was still a little stiff. He touched a curl at her ear. “Hey,” he whispered.
She turned her head and looked up at him in the semidarkness.
“I’m not hitting on you,” he whispered into her ear. “Okay?”
She relaxed. “Okay.”
The obvious relief in her voice made him feel guilty and offended. He moved his arm back to the chair and forced himself to watch the movie. He had to remember that Kasie worked for him. It wasn’t fair to use her to ward off other women. But…was it really that?
The dinosaur movie was really well-done, Kasie thought as she became involved in the storyline and the wonder of creatures that looked really alive up there on the screen. It was a bittersweet sort of cartoon, though, and she was sorry for the little girls. Because when it was over, Bess and Jenny came to them crying about the dinosaurs that had died in the film.
“Oh, sweetheart, it was only a movie,” Kasie said at once, and bent to pick up Bess, hugging her close. “Just a movie. Okay?”
“But it was so sad, Kasie,” cried the little girl. “Why do things have to die?”
“I don’t know, baby,” she said softly, and her eyes closed for an instant on a wave of remembered pain. She’d lost so many people she loved.
Gil had Jenny up in his arms, and they walked out of the theater carrying the children. Behind them, othe
r mothers were trying to explain about extinction.
“There, there, baby,” he cooed at Jenny and kissed her wet eyes. “It was only make-believe. Dinosaurs don’t really talk, you know, and they had brains the size of peas.” He shifted her and smiled. “Hey, remember what I told you about chickens, about how they’ll walk right up to a rattlesnake and let it strike them? Well, dinosaurs didn’t even have brains that big.”
“They didn’t?” Bess asked from her secure hold on Kasie.
“They didn’t,” Gil said. “If a meteor had struck them, they’d be standing right in its path waiting for it. And they wouldn’t be discussing it, either.”
Kasie laughed as she looked at Gil, delighted at the way he handled the sticky situation. He was, she thought, a marvelous parent.
“Can we get some ice cream on the way home?” Bess asked then, wiping her tears.
“You bet. We’ll stop by the yogurt place.”
“Thanks, Daddy!” Bess cried.
“You’re the nicest daddy,” Jenny murmured against his throat.
“You really are, you know,” Kasie agreed as they strapped the little girls into the back seat.
His eyes met hers across the children. “I’m a veteran daddy,” he told her dryly.
“Is that what it is?” Kasie chuckled.
“You get better with practice, or so they tell me. Do you like frozen yogurt? I get them that instead of ice cream. It’s healthy stuff.”
“I like it, too,” Kasie said as she got into the front seat beside him.
“We’ll get some to take home for Mrs. Charters and Miss Parsons,” he added, “so that we don’t get blamed for ruining their appetites for supper.”
“Now that’s superior thinking,” Kasie had to admit.
He started the engine and eased them out of the crowded parking lot.
The yogurt shop was a few miles from home. They stopped and got the treat in carryout cups, because Gil was expecting a phone call from a buyer out of state.
“I don’t like to work on Sundays,” he remarked as they drove home. “But sometimes it’s unavoidable.”