She sliced the pie absently. “What makes you think I found them?”
He gave her a sour look. “Don’t toy with my mind. Anyone as bright and curious as you would have to explore that attic. Now cut me a piece of that pie.”
Warmth flooded her neck and crawled up her cheeks. It was bad enough to be caught snooping in his things, but being accused of deception as well - and for the second time. She cut a piece of the pie and served it to him on a clean saucer. Did he really think she was bright? Handing out compliments seemed to be out of character for him, but hadn’t he always been honest and direct?
She sat down with a piece of pie and poked at it. “I noticed some crocus and daffodils coming up in the front. It’s almost spring.”
He never looked up from his food. “Do you like flowers?”
She laughed softly. “Does a dog have ears?”
He glanced up at her laugh and watched her intently. What was he thinking when he did that? Finally he shrugged. “Down in the lower pastures there are already some flowers in bloom. If you’d like, I’ll bring a few home sometime.”
She blushed again. “That would be nice.” To him it was nothing more than bringing home a gallon of milk or a sack of feed. Yet it was touching and somehow personal. The darkening shadows sharpened his features and highlighted the crows’ feet around his eyes. He finished his pie and leaned back in his chair, his gaze meeting hers. She knew the color was deepening in her cheeks.
He watched her thoughtfully, running a hand across his mouth absently. “You know, that family room could use a woman’s touch.”
She jumped at the diversion. “It needs something light and not too distracting from the natural beauty of the room - something that would complement the antique quality.”
He nodded. “It has a lot of character.” He leaned back and gazed into the room. “I always did like this house. I suppose I should modernize it, though. I thought about putting central heat in it. That would increase the value of the house.” He paused and glanced at her. “Don’t you think?”
“Of course - but it would be expensive.”
He nodded and lapsed into silence. His financial status was a complete mystery to her. Every Friday they went to town for groceries and he never questioned what she bought. He paid for the supplies with a check and took her and Mary out to eat. He said she deserved the rest and he wanted her to keep in touch with her friends. Why that was so important to him, she wasn’t sure, and he never explained.
One thing sure, though. Mary liked him, and the feelings were obviously mutual. He was no more expressive around Mary than anyone else, but he often asked her opinion on things. Mary, on the other hand, was vocal about her opinion of Cade, even to the point of stating that he would be the greatest catch of the century - no doubt, even an exaggeration in Mary’s mind. Yet it left her wondering if Mary was still romantically interested in him. To her amazement, that idea spawned an unwelcome pang of rivalry. Was it possible that he was equally interested in Mary?
“How are things going between you and scruffy?”
His question brought her to the present and she glanced up sharply, warmth crawling up her neck again.
“Scruffy? Oh, he lets me pet him now, but he doesn’t want me to pick him up.”
He nodded absently as he searched through the mail. He stopped on a small aqua envelope and frowned at the return address.
“Great.”
The single word was a combined expression of disgust and distress. She leaned forward and studied the envelope.
“Is something the matter?”
He opened the envelope and read the note, his lips thinning down almost to nonexistence. He tossed the note to her.
“My sister is coming to visit.”
She stared at him, shocked by his bitter tone. “I gather you two aren’t the best of friends?” She glanced down at the signature.
“Your loving sister, Claudette Cade-Lander.” She read the words aloud and he snorted.
“Her visits are nothing more than an inspection tour.”
“Inspection of what?”
He pushed his chair away from the table and crossed to the family room doorway. He was silent so long that she decided he wasn’t going to answer. As she picked up the dishes and turned toward the sink he finally responded. His voice still had a bitter edge, but there was a touch of musing in it now.
“To make sure I’m not keeping up with the Jones’, I suppose.” He lounged against the doorway; arms folded across his chest, and contemplated the family room. “Cindy, how would you like to do some redecorating for me?”
She stared at him in surprise. He had never used the nickname – always before it had been Cynthia. Maybe hearing Mary say it so often had burned it into his brain.
“Me?” She asked.
He quirked a brow. “Is there another Cindy in the house?”
“But I don’t know anything about...I mean, I don’t have any training in interior decorating.”
The lip twitched. “You seemed pretty sure of yourself a while ago.”
Her face flamed. “I didn’t mean to sound like some kind of authority on the subject. I was merely expressing a personal opinion.”
He dropped his arms and turned to face her. “Then let me express a personal opinion as well. I think you have impeccable taste. You don’t need training - especially not from the people who come up with this fashionable cluttered look. You have a natural instinct for the simple but elegant. For me everything is functional, but you have style.”
She stared at him, too surprised to respond immediately. Never in her wildest dreams would she have considered her taste stylish or elegant. Of course, she had never given it much thought, either. She knew what she liked, and it rarely had anything to do with what was in style. But then, he didn’t say her taste was stylish - he said it had style. Obviously his taste was compatible with hers. But redecorating the family room? What if he didn’t like it after she was done? He was still watching her expectantly.
“I don’t know if you realize how expensive it would be. I mean, there would be the cost of drapes, rugs, pictures and other things. I...”
“Make me a list of the things we would need and I’ll take you into town. We’re not talking over a thousand dollars, are we?”
She shook her head in mute silence.
“Then go ahead.”
“But what if you don’t like it?”
He sauntered to the stove and poured himself another cup of steaming coffee. “I’ll like it.” He sipped the hot liquid and winced. “Of course, if you think it would be too much work...you’ll only have two weeks.”
“No, that should be plenty of time.” She moved to the sink and turned on the water. As she watched the sink fill, she considered his proposal - and that other thing. This might be a good time to ask.
“I think it would be a good idea if I moved upstairs.” She glanced up as she spoke, and his expression became wary.
“Why? If there was anything going on in this house, it’s not like your rooming upstairs would make it look any different.”
She caught her breath as the blood lunged painfully up her neck. “I didn’t mean that.”
It was his turn to color up. “Then what?”
“I meant...Well; sometimes girls are more sensitive about things. I mean, it might be hurtful for your sister to see me using your mothers’ things.”
The lip twitched again. “There’s nothing sensitive about Claudette, but if you want to move into that room upstairs with the balcony, go ahead.”
Her face didn’t lose its warmth and she gnawed at her lower lip. “What made you single out that room?”
He tucked his hands in his back pockets and shuffled his feet, the color in his face deepening. “I figured...” He shrugged. “I saw you up there one time.”
If she thought her face could get no warmer, she was unpleasantly surprised. How often had he watched her sunbathing? It could only have been in the last few weeks sinc
e the weather had turned warm. She didn’t own a swimsuit, so bra and panties had been her option. The rest of her clothes were there in the room in case he came into the house, and she thought the deck was as private as her bedroom with him out on the range wet nursing his cattle. Apparently she was wrong. She stared down into the sink, feeling violated.
He must have sensed the cause of her sudden withdrawal, and spoke gently.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...I forgot my rope in the barn and had to come back yesterday. I wasn’t...I mean I didn’t...I looked away.”
She glanced up at his tortured face and had to smile. The stoical Russell Cade was stammering around like a school boy. And why? Actually, the bra and panties were far less revealing than a bikini. Was he embarrassed because she was scantily dressed, or because he had inadvertently invaded her privacy?
“It wasn’t your fault. If I want to sunbathe, I should buy appropriate clothing.” She rinsed a plate and dropped the subject. “I think it would be fun to redecorate the family room. Actually, I haven’t had enough to do around here lately.”
The extra color was beginning to fade from his face and he turned toward the family room. “When you’re done with the dishes, let me know. There is a chest of drawers and a three-quarter bed in the attic. Between the two of us we ought to be able to carry them down to that room.” He took a few steps and then paused, glancing back at her. “Feel free to get anything you want out of the attic. I know you’ll take care of it.” And then he walked away, his shoulders swaying like a pendulum with his stride.
His absence sucked the energy from the room and she stared down at the dishwater. Was Mary right? Was she falling for him? No, it couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it happen. Not when everything else was working out so well. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that romantic thoughts would cease to invade her newfound paradise.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cade escorted her to town and purchased everything on the list - plus a few more items. When she reminded him that he was going over the thousand-dollar figure he had thrown out, he merely shrugged.
“It will be worth the investment.”
She wondered what would be worth the investment, but didn’t want to wind up in the middle of a feud. Was he trying to show his sister up? Impress her? It seemed totally out of character. Nothing Cade did indicated that he gave a hoot about what anyone else thought.
As they packed the last of the items into the back of his truck, he glanced up at her.
“It’s early. Let’s go by and take a look at your truck while we’re in town. If it doesn’t look too complicated, maybe I can fix it.”
She stared at him. “I...You don’t have to do that.” He was already responsible for her food and housing. “I can get it towed to a shop.”
His eyes held a touch of humor. “You don’t want me to interfere?”
“It isn’t that. It’s just that...well; it’s not your responsibility.”
“I know. But it would be nice to know you had a way to get out and do things without fear of taking the only vehicle. I know you feel uncomfortable about driving my truck. You haven’t used it once.”
“Then I’ll get mine fixed. I had no idea it was troubling you.” Little did he know that she wouldn’t have left the ranch if her truck had been available. The ranch was too beautiful - too interesting and too much like home.
He eyed her thoughtfully. “It isn’t troubling me, but if you really don’t want me messing with it...”
She sighed and shook her head. “You do what you please.”
Cade launched into an investigation of the old truck while Cynthia and Mary caught up on the latest gossip. Finally he stepped back from the vehicle and wiped his hands with a rag.
“I think I know what it is. I’m going to go get a part. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Cynthia reached for her purse. “Let me give you some money. How much do you need?”
He lifted a hand and shook his head. “No, I’ll get it. If it doesn’t work, it’s my problem. If it does, then you can pay me back if you want.”
“Parts plus labor,” she insisted.
He eyed her sternly. “I’m not a mechanic.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s a fine thing to be telling me while you’re working on my truck.”
His eyes twinkled with mirth, but he refused to let the rest of his face respond. Mary stood by, unusually quiet, but when Cade left she found her voice.
“So, can you still tell me you’re not romantically interested in him?”
Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Let’s not go through this again. Nothing is going on and nothing is going to happen.”
Mary shrugged and smiled wryly. “Then why were you flirting with him?”
Cynthia gasped. “Flirting with him? I wasn’t flirting with him.” She knew her face was getting red. Had she been flirting - unconsciously? A Freudian slip? And more important, did Cade think she was flirting?
Mary contemplated her soberly for a few moments and then spoke gently. “Be careful, Cindy. I know you’re sure you can stay in control, but...”
“I can,” Cynthia replied archly. “And anyway, Cade definitely isn’t romantically interested in me, so there’s absolutely nothing to be concerned about.” Both statements came from the heart. People had limited control over their emotions, but they could certainly remain in control of their actions.
Mary shrugged. “Well, if I were in your shoes, I’d see my doctor about some form of birth control. People have urges and sometimes things just happen.”
“Oh, Mary. The best method of birth control is abstinence and a little pill is no substitute for morality. Anyway, things don’t just happen. Not to people who have a little dignity and self control.” At Mary’s startled look, she was afraid she had stepped over the line. Did Mary speak from experience? It was none of her business and she certainly didn’t want to hurt Mary’s feelings. “Well, maybe it does for some people, but not a hard hearted old witch like me.”
Mary laughed shortly. “You two make a fine pair, you know that? Who do you think you’re fooling? Under that facade of indifference beats a heart primed for breaking.”
“Maybe so, but not right now. I’m having too much fun.” She launched into an explanation of the truckload of supplies and a description of her new room.
Mary listened thoughtfully. “Claudette has no reason to be concerned about Mrs. Cade’s furniture. It isn’t...” She cut her explanation off short as Cade pulled into the drive. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
But the opportunity to talk privately didn’t offer itself the rest of the day. As it turned out, the truck repair was minor, so she was able to follow Cade home that evening. It would be nice to know she could leave the ranch at will without leaving Cade afoot, but she doubted if she would be driving to town soon. For a while she was going to be far too busy.
The next morning, after Cade left, she threw a roast in the oven and eagerly set to work on the family room. By noon she had the pictures and mirrors on the walls and was hanging the curtains when Cade came in. He glanced around the room and his troubled gaze halted on her.
“Don’t over do it.”
She glanced around the room anxiously. She was little more than half-done and already he thought it was too much? What was it he found so objectionable? Unable to discern the source of his objection, she finally turned an inquisitive gaze on him.
“You don’t like it?”
He actually smiled, though it was so brief that she questioned whether she had imagined it. No, it had been there - brief and beguiling. And now it was gone, not even a trace lingering as he spoke.
“I meant don’t over work yourself.”
“Oh.” She took a step down and missed the next rung - plunging her shin against the step. She gave a startled squeal and fumbled on the unsteady ladder.
Instantly strong arms scooped her off the ladder and lowered her safely to the floor. It all happened so fast that
she didn’t have time to think, only to cling to the one solid thing she could find - Cade. The arms that rescued her continued to cradle her gently, and what the fall had failed to do to her heart beat, his close proximity completed.
Color raced to her cheeks. What must he be thinking to hold on to her like that? She chanced a glance at his face, but he was contemplating the ladder.
“I’d better get a screwdriver and tighten that ladder before you fall and break your neck.”
He glanced down and noted her color with obvious confusion. One arm tightened around her in a light hug. He released her, striding away after a screwdriver.
She stared after him, still perplexed by the hug - a fatherly or brotherly demonstration of fondness - or maybe an expression of relief that she wasn’t injured? She rubbed her shin. Not badly, anyway.
Maybe that incident inspired her dream that night. How the dream began, she couldn’t remember but she was in his arms and he was gazing down at her, his expression as bland as usual. She lifted her face to receive his kiss and he leaned forward, giving her a fatherly peck on the cheek - and a friendly squeeze. She clutched his sleeve as he turned away.
She woke, her fingers entwined in the sheet, feeling aroused and frustrated. She untangled her fingers from the sheet and punched her pillow. What was it about him that she found so attractive? And why couldn’t she force these erotic thoughts from her mind? Nothing but heartache could come of it. Cade was completely uninterested. Even in her dream she knew it, so why the persistent desire? Should she walk away from this job? Could she walk away from it - and Cade? The job would be harder to walk away from than Cade - wouldn’t it? Mary was right about one thing. She was falling for Cade. It was time to pack up and get out - as soon as the visit from his sister was over. He could always find another maid and she could go back to the diner.
For the next week, she tried to stay too busy to think about him. In her spare time she read “The Lonely Hills.” Elizabeth Cade was a lonely woman - lonely and unhappy. Cynthia closed the book and gazed out the window. Why didn’t his mother see the beauty of the ranch? She crossed to the window and stood watching another majestic sunset.
Courtship of the Recluse Page 5