Читать книгу The Rancher And The Nanny - Caroline Cross - Страница 7

The shiny black pickup rocketed down the Bar M’s gravel drive, raising a plume of dust in its wake.

Poised before the ranch house’s back door, Eve Chandler turned as the vehicle swept past. Her stomach did a quick somersault at the sight of the big, dark-haired man behind the wheel.

It had been eight years since she last saw John MacLaren, but for an instant time seemed to melt away. All of a sudden she was seventeen again, and the way she’d felt whenever she was around him—hot, bothered, filled with yearnings that both enthralled and embarrassed her—came rushing back.

She shivered and took a step toward the stairs as if to flee, only to freeze a second later as her common sense kicked in.

Knock it off, Eve. You’re no longer an inexperienced teenager, remember? You’re twenty-five years old, the same age John was all those years ago. At least he doesn’t have a clue how you felt back then—you made sure of that. Think how much harder this would be if he had.

The stark reminder of why she was here crashed over her like a breaker of icy water. And though she stubbornly refused to give in to the rising tide of panic that had been building inside her the past few weeks, she couldn’t deny the irony of the situation. If someone had tried to tell her six months ago that she, the privileged granddaughter of Lander County’s biggest rancher, would soon be forced to come begging favors from the sexy loner who once worked in the Chandler stables, she never would have believed it.

Yet here she was.

Thirty feet away, John pulled in beside the small red car she’d borrowed for the drive over. He switched off the pickup’s engine.

She could hear her heart pounding in the ensuing silence. Determined not to let on, she deliberately struck a casual pose as he climbed out of the cab and shut the truck door. He began to walk in her direction, his long legs eating up the distance as he slowly yanked off his leather work gloves.

If he was surprised to see her, it didn’t show.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs and inclined his head a scant inch. “Eve.”

Taking a firm grip on her unruly emotions, she summoned her most confident smile. “Hello, John.”

There was a distinct silence as they regarded each other.

Around them, the September day was much like any other. A pale yellow sun hung high in the vast blue Montana sky. The temperature hovered in the midfifties, while the summer-seared grass that covered the surrounding range waved gently beneath a light but persistent breeze.

Eve paid no attention. Her focus was completely claimed by the tall man standing before her. Despite her little pep talk, the fluttery feeling in her stomach got worse as he slowly rocked back on his heels and gave her an unhurried once-over. His gaze touched on her sunny blond hair, then raked her ice-blue cashmere sweater, gray wool crepe slacks and Italian leather shoes.

She’d chosen the expensive outfit deliberately. At the time, she’d told herself she merely wanted to look her best. Now, she realized that on some level she’d also hoped it would give her an edge, acting as a subtle reminder of their respective pasts. In the half second before his eyes hooded over, however, she caught a glimpse of something in their depths that seemed to be as much cool disdain as grudging appreciation.

Stung, she lifted her chin and studied him in turn. She had to concede the years had been good to him in ways that had nothing to do with his newfound wealth. He might be dressed in scuffed cowboy boots, jeans whitened at the hips and thighs, a faded black T-shirt and a weathered Stetson, but nobody would ever mistake him for a simple ranch hand.

Time had added muscle to his lean six-foot three-inch frame and character to the chiseled angles of his face. What’s more, while he’d always possessed more than his share of virility, now he also radiated an air of leashed power. It was easy to see why women from sixteen to sixty turned to watch when he walked past. From the determined angle of his square jaw, to the compelling bite of his laser blue eyes and the deliberate set of his broad shoulders, he was all man.

The realization that she found him even more attractive now than she had when she was seventeen set off an alarm deep inside her.

“I was sorry to hear about Max,” he said abruptly.

She jerked her gaze to his, heat rising in her cheeks as their eyes met. Horrified he might guess what she’d been thinking, she did her best to look cool and contained. “I received your card. Thank you.”

He shrugged, the simple motion seriously straining the seams of his T-shirt. “He was a good man.”

Off balance, and unable to think about the unexpected loss of her grandfather without a piercing sense of grief, she said merely, “Yes, he was.”

“Rumor has it you’re selling the Rocking C to some big Texas cattle consortium.”

“That’s true, I am. The deal will be final in just a few days.”

He crossed his arms. “You sure didn’t waste any time unloading the place, did you?”

Eve stared at his hard, handsome face, taken aback by his obvious disapproval even as she realized he’d just given her the perfect opening. All she had to do was tell the truth—that if she hadn’t sold out to the Texans, she would have lost the ranch either to the bank or the IRS—and he’d know the gravity of her financial situation.

Yet she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—do it. Word of the disastrous investments her grandfather had made the last year of his life would no doubt eventually surface, since the Lander County ranching community was surprisingly tight-knit. But it wouldn’t come from her. Just as Max Chandler had protected her in life, Eve would protect him in death. Because she’d loved him. And because it was the very least that she owed him.

“I guess that means you’ll be taking off pretty soon,” John said in the face of her silence. “Back to Paris or New York or—where is it you’ve been living lately?”

“London,” she supplied automatically, trying to decide just how she was going to broach the reason for her visit.

She needn’t have worried. In his direct, no-nonsense way, John took care of the problem for her. “So, you going to tell me what you’re doing here or not?”

“Yes, of course. I was hoping we could talk. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

He took a cursory glance at his wristwatch, then shocked her by shaking his head. “Sorry. I’ve got a prior commitment. We’ll have to do it another time.”

“But this won’t wait!”

He shrugged, clearly unmoved. “It’ll have to. I’ve got less than fifteen minutes before I have to be somewhere.”

Struggling for composure, she turned to keep him in view as he strode up the stairs and brushed past her, trailing the scent of sunshine, horses and hard work in his wake. “Please, John,” she said, swallowing her pride. “I promise it won’t take long.”

His hand froze on the doorknob. He turned, obvious reluctance warring with curiosity—and something else she couldn’t define—in his eyes. “All right,” he said finally. “I guess if you don’t mind talking while I get washed up, I can spare you a few minutes.” Pushing open the inner door, he disappeared inside.

She stared after him, feeling both relieved and annoyed, trying to convince herself that she shouldn’t read too much into his being less than friendly. After all, he was simply treating her the way she’d treated him when they were younger.

And just like that, despite her every intention not to revisit the past, the memory of their first meeting came rushing back.

Once again it was a still summer morning. The air smelled clean and sweet, redolent with the scents of sunshine, hay and the bark chips beneath her feet as she stood in the doorway of one of the Rocking C’s roomy box stalls, stroking the warm, satiny neck of Candy Stripes, her quarter horse mare.

The two had just returned from a glorious sunrise ride and Eve vividly remembered how she’d felt at that moment: happy, gloriously alive and totally pleased with her life.

But then, why shouldn’t she be? Just seventeen, she was cherished and indulged at home and popular at school, where she was both a cheerleader and an honor student. It wasn’t surprising she’d believed the world was hers to order.

And then she’d stepped blithely into the corridor, directly into the path of a big, dark-haired stranger—and everything had changed.

He swore as she smacked into the solid wall of his chest. Yet somehow he still managed to swing the hundred-pound sack of grain he had balanced on one broad shoulder to the ground at the same time he reached out to steady her.

Startled, she’d looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. And as she took in the rest of his features—the strong cheekbones, the blade-straight nose, the chiseled lips, the silky dark hair tumbling over his brow—something unprecedented happened to her.

Heat pooled between her thighs. Her nipples contracted into stiff, aching points. The starch drained from her knees, and she couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe.

For one mad moment she wanted nothing more than to step closer, press her body against his boldly masculine one, bury her face against the pulse beating in the strong column of his throat.

She wanted to touch him and taste him… everywhere. And she wanted it so badly she ached with it.

The discovery shocked her. Confused, frightened, alarmed, she took a hasty step back, jerking away from the steely strength of his warm, calloused hand gripping her arm. “Who are you?” she demanded.

He didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he looked her over, taking note of the way she was rubbing her fingers over the spot where his hand had been. His mouth compressed slightly, but when his gaze met hers, it was coolly polite—and nothing more. “John MacLaren.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Working.”

It was bad enough that her body was still throbbing, her throat dry, her heart pounding. But even worse, he seemed completely unaffected. She lifted her chin. “Since when?”

“Since I was hired yesterday. And if you don’t mind my asking—” he shifted his weight onto one hip in a way she found both arrogant and enticing “—just who are you to be asking?”

She drew herself up a little straighter. “Eve Chandler. My grandfather owns this place.”

“Huh.”

He sounded completely unimpressed, and panicked by the storm of unfamiliar emotions roaring through her, she snapped, “And if you want to keep your job, I’d suggest you watch where you’re going from now on.”

He reached over and carelessly hefted the sack of grain onto his shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind.” With that, he’d strode away.

Eve stared after him. At any other time in her life she would have been mortified by her rude behavior. But not at that moment. Not with him. Instead, she’d told herself that John MacLaren was an arrogant bore who wasn’t worth her time.

Yet every time she’d seen him from that point forward she’d felt that same overwhelming arousal and attraction. It had embarrassed her, made her feel self-conscious and unsure of herself—a new and unwelcome experience. Worse, she’d lived in constant terror that he might discern how she felt. It was no wonder that she’d decided that it was smarter to invite his dislike than risk having him find out how vulnerable he made her feel.

And since she wasn’t about to confess the truth after all these years, she could hardly expect him to fall all over himself, welcoming her, she reminded herself now. She’d simply have to do the best she could.

And try to remember that he was her last hope. That no matter what she felt, she couldn’t afford to give up on him now.

She drew herself up and walked toward the door. Entering the house, she found herself standing in a spacious, sun-filled mudroom. She had a quick impression of a granite-tiled floor, of a wall covered with hooks that held coats, hats, chaps and all sorts of other equipment, of an alcove housing an oversize washer and dryer. To her left was even what appeared to be a spacious bathroom equipped with a glassed-in shower.

But it was the sight of John planted before a large utility sink with his back to her that commanded her attention. He’d tossed his hat on a nearby counter and yanked his dusty T-shirt out of his jeans. Now, he tugged the garment over his head and tossed it to the floor.

An unwitting voyeur, Eve stared at his smooth, sun-bronzed back, observing the muscles bunch and shift as he turned on the water, picked up the soap and proceeded to wash. When he bent to rinse off, the satiny hollow of his spine flattened out, exposing a ribbon of taut, pale skin at his belt line.

She was so transfixed that she almost didn’t look away in time as he abruptly shut off the water, grabbed a towel and swiveled around. “Well?” He waited expectantly.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to behave as if she wasn’t acutely aware of his seminakedness. It wasn’t easy to do, particularly when an unwanted ribbon of heat curled through her as he rubbed the towel down his neck and over the sculpted contours of his chest. “I had lunch with Chrissy Abrams last week,” she began, ordering herself to concentrate. “She told me that you have a seven-year-old daughter who recently came to live with you. And that you’ve been trying since summer to find somebody to look after her.”

“So?”

“So I’d like the job.”

He went absolutely still, and then a faint smile curved his mouth. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. No, I’m not.”

The smile faded. He gave her a long, penetrating look. “Why would you want to do that?”

She’d known he was bound to ask and she was ready. Keeping her eyes steady on his face, she said with a lightness she didn’t feel, “Because Lander is my home. I’ve missed it and I’d like to stay in the area. And now that I’ve sold the ranch, I need something to do.”

“And you think working for me is it?” His face hardened and he slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so, Eve.”

Even though she’d suspected it was coming, his answer was crushing. She swallowed. “Why not?”

He tossed the towel onto the counter and headed for the dryer, where he retrieved a clean blue T-shirt several shades lighter than his eyes. Frowning, he peeled off a small white lace-edged sock that clung to it, tossing the stocking onto the washer top. He pulled on the shirt and strolled back toward the sink, stuffing the tail into his jeans as he went. “Let’s just say I don’t think you’re the right woman for the job.”

“But I am.” She struggled to keep the desperation out of her voice. “I’m here, I’m available, I know my way around a ranch and I’m very, very good with kids.”

He leaned back against the counter, looking singularly unconvinced. “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. Chrissy apparently didn’t tell you that I need somebody who’s willing to live in.”

“Actually, she did.”

His glorious blue eyes narrowed slightly. “And that’s all right with you?”

Clearly now was not the time to admit it was the prospect of living with him that had made her exhaust every possibility of other employment first. “Yes.”

“Well, it’s not with me. This’ll probably come as a shock to you, princess,” his voice took on a distinctly sarcastic tone, “but I need somebody who can do more than just keep Lissy company. I don’t have either a cook or a maid, so I’m looking for someone who can run a house, too.”

She absolutely was not going to lose her temper. Still, she couldn’t keep the tartness out of her own voice as she answered. “I think I can handle it, John. I know how to cook and clean. More importantly, as I understand it, your daughter’s not having the easiest time fitting in at school—” she saw his mouth tighten and knew she was moving into dangerous territory “—and I think I can help.”

“Chrissy Abrams talks too much,” he said flatly.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have something unique to offer. I was just a little older than your daughter when I lost my parents and came to live with Granddad. I know what it’s like to be uprooted, to lose one way of life and make the adjustment to another.”

He shook his head. “Even if you have more moves than Mary Poppins, the answer is still no, Eve.”

“But—” For one reckless moment she nearly blurted out the truth. Please. I need this job. I’ve sold everything of value I can, I’ve got less than three hundred dollars to my name and in four days I’ll be homeless—

“I’m sorry.” John coolly interrupted her frantic thoughts. “But it just wouldn’t work.”

The finality in his voice was unmistakable. Like a slap in the face, it brought Eve to her senses. A shiver went through her as she realized just how close she’d come to begging for his help and shaming her grandfather’s memory.

Even so, she couldn’t stop the hot wash of tears that prickled her eyes as her last hope died. She glanced quickly away and blinked hard, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat. “I see.”

It would be all right, she told herself fiercely. This was merely another setback, not the end of the road. Something was bound to turn up. The important thing now was not to make a bigger fool of herself than she already had by coming here.

She swallowed again. Raising her chin, she forced herself to face him. “Well.” She managed a smile. “I guess I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She felt her lower lip start to tremble and glanced blindly at her watch. “Then I’d better let you go, or you’ll be late.”

To her relief, he shifted his gaze to his own wristwatch and she seized the opportunity to turn away. Although she suddenly wanted nothing more than to escape, she forced herself to stroll toward the door. Summoning up another surface smile, she glanced over her shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again, John.”

He nodded, his expression impossible to read. “You, too.”

“I hope you find someone soon.”

“Sure.”

And then she was out the door and crossing the porch. She made her way to her car, her steps deliberately measured. Climbing in, she turned the key she’d left in the ignition, backed out carefully and pulled onto the ranch driveway, resisting the urge to speed.

It wasn’t until she reached the highway that she could no longer ignore the way her hands were shaking. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she pulled over and stopped the car, struggling to yank on the emergency brake as the shaking spread.

Stubbornly, she again tried to tell herself that everything was going to be all right.

Except that deep down, she no longer believed it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late. A single tear slid down her face as she wondered what she was going to do now.