Along with the bartender, Tate had hired a woman to help serve. In her late forties, Evelyn was pleasant and took Anita’s directions easily. Some of Tate’s guests brought their wives and others their girlfriends. For the most part, everyone seemed to have a good time, especially after Tate put on some music and couples danced on the patio.
As dusk fell, a few of the guests wandered inside and made themselves comfortable in the great room. Anita was about to take a tray of cookies in there when she heard one woman say to another, “The redhead is his housekeeper. But the way Tate Pardell looks at her, I’m wondering if she’s not a lot more.”
Anita stood in the hallway, her cheeks flushing, as she remembered Tate’s kiss, as she thought about her own reaction to him. Even though he had kissed her—once—she wasn’t more than a housekeeper, and she hated being the butt of conjecture. But whether guests were gossiping about her or not, she had a job to do here today. Squaring her shoulders, she carried the cookies into the great room with a plastic smile, offering them to Tate’s guests. When the doorbell rang again, she was relieved. Setting the tray on a coffee table, she went to answer it.
When she pulled the door open, her stomach sank because she immediately recognized the man standing there—Kip Fargo.
“Well, hello there, Anita,” the tall, blond worker drawled in his deep Texan accent. “Imagine seeing you here.”
Before Larry was killed, Kip had been on the same crew as her husband. He’d come to the house to play poker several times. One of those times, he’d made a pass at her. She didn’t much respect a man who would go after a married woman, and she’d told him so bluntly. Ever since then, his looks of disdain and anger got across the message that he didn’t like his male ego being trod upon.
His gaze passed over her insolently as he asked, “How do you know Tate Pardell? Are you dating somebody on one of his crews?”
Kip wasn’t the type of man she wanted to confide in, or even get tied up in a conversation with. “I’m working for Mr. Pardell. Won’t you come in?” she asked politely. “Some of his guests are in the great room, others are out back. The food’s out there, too.”
“Sure, I’ll come in. Can’t wait to see this showplace. It makes you wonder what Tate Pardell did to deserve it, doesn’t it?”
“I imagine he worked hard. Isn’t that how everyone gets ahead?”
“By working hard?” Kip gave a humorless laugh. “Luck has a big part in it. I’ll never get rich on what I make as a foreman for Pardell. I’m looking for something better.”
Brushing past her, Kip stepped inside and began examining everything about the house. When he glanced into the great room, he gave a low whistle. “Everything must have cost a bundle.” He glanced at Anita again. “Why don’t you show me where the action is?”
If there was a double entendre intended, she wasn’t going to acknowledge it. With her back stiff and her shoulders straight, she led Kip to the sliding glass doors in the dining room and opened them so he could join the other guests on the patio.
“Aren’t you coming out?” he asked eagerly as the music and the guests’ conversations swirled around them.
“No. I have work to do in the kitchen.”
“You’re a maid now?” he asked slyly.
“I’m Mr. Pardell’s housekeeper.” Turning away, she added, “Have a nice evening.”
But Kip wasn’t going to let her go that easily, and he grabbed her arm. “Now that Larry’s gone, maybe you’ll do the two-step with me.”
Her stomach rolled at the thought of it. But she didn’t want to antagonize this man who Larry had once told her could be a mean drunk. She didn’t want to bring trouble into her life.
Before she could pull away, Tate seemed to appear out of nowhere, standing beside Kip. Both men were the same height, but there was no comparison. Tate had pride, confidence and integrity that Kip Fargo would never possess. That showed in the way he carried himself and how he handled others.
Now he looked down at Kip’s hand on her arm. “Hi there, Kip,” he said amiably. “Do you and Anita know each other?”
Pulling her arm from Kip’s clasp, she suddenly felt self-conscious. But she didn’t back away from the question. “Kip worked with my husband on a road crew.”
“Sure did,” Kip acknowledged with a smile. “Not only that, but Larry and I were poker buddies. Anita says she’s your housekeeper now. If she’s cookin’ too, you’re probably eating like a man should. Her corn fritters can make a fella’s mouth water.”
Kip always made Anita feel uncomfortable, and that was true a hundredfold now. She didn’t want Tate to get the wrong impression. Didn’t want him to think she’d flirted with the man.
After looking from one of them to the other, Tate motioned to the party outside. “Go ahead and enjoy yourself, Kip. There’s plenty out there to eat.”
“I’ll make sure I have some fun,” Kip assured Tate, as he tipped his Stetson to Anita and stepped out back.
Tate closed the sliding glass door behind him and stood alone in the empty dining room with Anita. “What was that all about?”
She peered through the glass door and saw that Kip was still watching them. Tate noticed it, too, and motioned her away from the doors.
“It was nothing,” she responded, hoping to treat the whole incident diplomatically.
“You’ve got to stop telling me that, Anita, because I don’t believe it. Were you and Kip Fargo lovers?” His voice held accusation and a roughness she had never heard there before.
“No! Absolutely not. I was a married woman. Kip doesn’t respect any boundaries and he made a pass at me. I told him to jump in a lake and that was the end of it.”
“Where did he make a pass at you?”
“Tate, this isn’t any—”
“Yes, it is my business. He works for me. I don’t like the man personally, but he supervises his men well and I don’t have any complaints about his work. Still, if there’s something I should know, I want to hear it.”
“Kip made a pass at me one night when he was playing poker with Larry. He’s the type of man who thinks all women should fall at his feet.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I didn’t. I meant my vows to Larry. No matter what problems we had, I was committed to our marriage. If you can’t understand that…” Her voice broke and she couldn’t believe how much Tate’s opinion meant to her.
Suddenly, his hand was clasping her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push it.”
She shook her head. “It’s all right.” Taking a deep breath, she moved away from his hold. “I’m going to start cleaning up.”
“Did you get something to eat?” he asked kindly.
“No. I’ll wait until I get the kids and bring them home.”
“You can take time to eat now. You can even slow down and mingle a little.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. That would be confusing for your guests. I’m a housekeeper more than a hostess.”
“Yes, but—”
The sliding glass doors opened and a woman stepped inside. She looked to be in her thirties, with long brown hair and a friendly smile.
“Hi, Sandy,” Tate said. “Enjoying the party?”
“Garth is eating those ribs as if they’re the last ones on earth.” Her gaze fell on Anita. “Did you make them?”
“Yes, I did,” Anita said softly.
Tate introduced the two women. “Sandy Finney, meet Anita Sutton. Sandy’s husband, Garth, is a family doctor in town. He takes care of my crew when need be.”
“We’re both enjoying ourselves,” Sandy assured him. “He can’t stop raving about the food.”
“That’s thanks to Anita.”
“Barbecue sauce out of a bottle?” Sandy asked.
“No, it’s my own recipe. But if you’d like it, I’d be glad to copy it for you.”
“That’d be great.”
“You two have something in common,” Tate said. “Sandy has twi
ns, too. They’re girls. Three years old, aren’t they?”
“They sure are,” Sandy said with a laugh. “Nobody ever told me there were terrible threes, just like there are terrible twos.”
Smiling with sympathy, Anita offered, “When there are twins to get into everything, age three seems to last forever.”
“You two will have to share war stories sometime. Anita has twin boys who are five,” he explained.
“I can only dream of five,” Sandy said with a sigh, and they all laughed.
Anita liked this woman. She liked her a lot. But even though Tate had suggested she mingle, she didn’t feel comfortable doing it. “I’d better see to things in the kitchen. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Finney.”
“Call me Sandy.”
“Sandy,” Anita repeated. “If you need any refills out there, just send Evelyn in to let me know.”
Tate’s gaze was on her as she went to the kitchen.
You’re his housekeeper, she told herself again. Even so, she couldn’t forget being held in his arms.
Chapter Six
All evening, Tate watched Anita, trying not to but unable to stop himself. She seemed to be everywhere yet not anywhere. She had a knack for escaping notice as she filled serving dishes, made sure empty plates disappeared and generally kept things running smoothly.
He wasn’t running smoothly. He’d stayed away from her over the past few weeks, avoiding her when he could. He’d kept their contact to a minimum because he knew what would happen if he didn’t. Tonight, when he’d seen her with Kip Fargo…
Something inside him had detonated.
He didn’t want her to be simply his employee. He wanted a hell of a lot more than that. But the situation was sticky. He didn’t know if he trusted her—not completely, anyway, when it came to her ambition to get ahead. Yet he really cared about her kids, even the baby. When the boys joined him in the barn, he felt as if he was doing something important, telling them about his days growing up on a cattle ranch, showing them pictures of the types of horses he intended to breed. Corey and Jared were curious and couldn’t seem to get enough of everything—the stories, the attention, the rough-and-tumble play around the hay bales.
Whatever was happening to him, Tate knew it all had to do with Anita and her kids.
As he entered the kitchen, he could see the ceramic pot from the slow cooker soaking in soapsuds in the sink. Long serving trays—too big to fit in the dishwasher—lay lopsided on the drainer. Anita had the refrigerator door open and was shoving things this way and that.
When she heard him, she gave a large bowl one final poke, then firmly closed the door. “Not enough room,” she said with a grin. “You have leftovers. I might not have to cook for a week.”
“Everything was delicious. You know that, don’t you? The guests raved about all of it.”
“I’m glad.”
Silence settled between them until she murmured, “I have to go pick up the kids.”
Before she could elude him, he touched her shoulder. “Wait a minute.”
When she faced him again, her pretty green eyes held questions.
“I want you to know that I know you’ve gone beyond the call of duty, fixing up the house and all. A couple of the wives asked if I’d had a decorator come in.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them you did it. The truth is, until you moved in, this place was just a building with some furniture scattered about. Now it’s a lot more.”
“A few rugs and some color in the windows makes a difference.”
“I’m not sure it has anything to do with the rugs and the curtains. It has to do with you.”
He could tell his words surprised her.
“Thank you, Tate.”
“I don’t want thanks. I want—”
“What do you want?” she asked softly.
He had to ask her something one more time. “You and Kip Fargo. Nothing ever really went on between you two?”
Spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “I was a married woman, Tate.” She looked angry that she had to explain again.
“Married women get sidetracked, especially if they’re not happy with their marriage.”
Turning away from him, she headed toward her rooms. “I think I’ve already told you too much about me.”
This time, he wasn’t going to let her get away. He wasn’t going to let her keep denying the chemistry between them. Catching her hand, he tugged her around to face him. “I don’t think you’ve told me nearly enough.”
“If you don’t believe me…”
Her eyes suddenly welled with tears and his chest tightened. Were they true tears? Why couldn’t he forget Donna? Why couldn’t he shake his doubts?
“I’ve learned women don’t always tell the truth, just as you’ve learned men don’t.”
He could see her anger fade and her eyes soften.
All he wanted to do was make her forget about her betraying husband and Kip Fargo, who didn’t understand the sanctity of marriage. He only knew one way to do that.
She was standing against the counter and he moved closer now, positioning a hand on either side of her. “Do you feel what I’m feeling?”
For a fleeting instant, he thought she was going to tell him no. He thought she was going to deny their attraction and lie to him. Then she simply nodded and murmured, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You’re thinking too much,” he said huskily, moving closer still.
When Tate’s lips touched Anita’s, there was nothing else in the world that mattered except their kiss. Pressed together, her breasts pushing into his chest, their lower bodies intimately close, he didn’t even think about waiting before he slid his tongue into her mouth. Instead of being surprised by all of it, she seemed to embrace it, just as she embraced him. Her arms reached around his neck and her fingers laced in his hair.
His groan was deep and primal and hungry. He didn’t know what it was about Anita that encouraged him to dream dreams he’d thought had long since died. He didn’t know what it was about her that urged him to hope again. He might have become more cynical over the years, but part of him still wanted a bond that would never be broken. His bond with his brother all those years ago had been a lifeline that made everything matter more. When that was severed, the light had gone out of his world. The day Anita had come into his office, sat down and told him she needed his job, a little of that light had returned. Anita and light and laughter just seemed to go together.
Or was he fooling himself all over again?
Shutting down the thoughts, he let physical need take over. As he explored Anita’s mouth, his breathing became ragged and he was more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. Somehow, he felt as if Anita was the answer to a problem he’d never quite solved.
One minute, she was as involved as he was; the next, he felt everything shift. He felt her pull back. He felt her shut down, and he knew he had to back away.
Separating their bodies, he gave them both a couple of inches of breathing space. “What’s the matter?”
“I have to go pick up my children. I have to think of them first, Tate. Always.”
It was a warning of sorts. The heck of it was, he understood it. He didn’t want their first time to be quick any more than she did. She meant more to him than a fast tumble, and he had to make her realize that. “I know your kids come first. They should.”
When she studied him with an intensity he’d never felt from her before, he wondered how many doubts and how many memories of betrayal she was working through. They were a pair, they were.
“I’m not your type, Tate.”
He almost smiled. “How do you know?”
Apparently, she couldn’t find any humor in it. “I don’t come from where you do.”
“I don’t think where we come from matters. It’s where we are and where we’re going that does.”
“I work for you.”
“I know, and that complicat
es everything. I guess I could fire you,” he said teasingly.
“This job means more to me than…than an affair.”
Searching her face, he could find no hint of ambiguity…no hint that she had an ulterior motive…no hint that she might be using the job to get to him.
“You’re becoming indispensable,” he conceded. “You don’t have to worry about me firing you. And the rest…We’ll figure it out. Why don’t I come with you to pick up the kids? They might fall asleep on the way home and you’ll have all three of them to handle.”
“You don’t have to…” she began.
“I want to.”
For the first time since he’d known Anita, she looked scared. It was a fleeting emotion that was there in those big green eyes and then gone. What was she afraid of?
“We’ll have to take my car. It has a car seat for Marie.”
“Your car it is.” If he drove it, he might be able to tell what was wrong with it. He’d heard it grumbling the other day, coughing and chugging sometimes. He didn’t want it breaking down while she was out somewhere with the kids. He knew something about cars, and keeping Anita safe while she was in hers would be next on his list of things to do.
He couldn’t ever remember caring about a woman’s safety before.
“Can you teach us how to ride?” Corey looked up at Tate with big beseeching eyes a few days later.
“You’re awful young,” Tate answered, not wanting to deal with this request yet. Up until now, the boys had followed him around the barn, hadn’t gone too close to the horses’ stalls and had shown a healthy fear of the animals. That’s what Tate had wanted. Every time he thought about the twins and horses in the same breath, he remembered his brother, Jeremy, and what had happened to him.
“I’m sorry, boys. I think you’re too small to get on a horse just yet. When you’re older, we’ll see what we can do.”
“How old?” Jared asked.
“I’m not sure.”
The boys’ smiles had turned to frowns. When Tate heard a shuffle on the walkway, he looked up to see Anita. She’d probably heard the whole thing.
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