Читать книгу Rough Diamonds: Wyoming Tough / Diamond in the Rough - Diana Palmer - Страница 9

THE LAST THING MORIE EXPECTED the next day was to find a seething Gelly Bruner on her doorstep. Well, at the bunkhouse when she went in for lunch.

“I hate Chinese food,” Gelly said without a greeting.

“I’m sorry,” Morie said. “In that case, perhaps you should avoid Chinese restaurants.” She smiled.

“He went there because of you, didn’t he?” she demanded. “To make sure your date knew he was watching out for you.”

Morie looked innocent. “Why would he do that? He’s not my dad.”

Gelly frowned. “He’s not your boyfriend, either, and you’d better not make eyes at him,” she added coldly. “You won’t last long here if you do.”

“I work here,” Morie pointed out. “That’s all.”

“You see how they live and you like it,” the blonde said, giving Morie’s clothing an even colder look. “You’re poor and you’d like to have nice things and mingle with the right people.”

“I do mingle with the right people,” Morie said, offended.

“Cowboys” came the disparaging reply. “Smelly and stupid.”

“They’re neither.”

“If you do anything to make Mallory notice you, I’ll make sure it never happens again,” she added, lowering her voice. “You won’t be the first person I’ve helped off this ranch. It isn’t wise to make an enemy of me.”

“I work here,” Morie said, growing angry. She had her mother’s looks, but her father’s fiery temper. “And nobody threatens me.”

Gelly shifted. She wasn’t used to people who fought back. “My people are well-to-do,” she said stiffly. “And you won’t like how I get even.”

Morie raised an eyebrow. “Ditto.”

“Well, you just stay away from Mallory,” she said bluntly. “He’s mine and I don’t share!”

“Does he know?”

Gelly blinked. “Know what?”

“That he belongs to you? Perhaps I should ask him… .”

“You shut up!” The blonde woman’s fists balled at her sides and her face grew flushed with temper. “I’ll get you!”

“Wind and water,” Morie said philosophically. “Words.”

Gelly drew back her hand and started to slap the younger woman, but Morie threw up her forearm instinctively and blocked the move.

“I have a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do,” she told Gelly in a soft voice. Her dark eyes glittered. “Try that again, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Gelly let out a furious sound. “I’ll tell Mallory!”

“Be my guest,” Morie offered. “I can teach him a few moves, too, in case you try that with him.”

Gelly stomped back off toward the house, muttering to herself.

Morie shook her head at the retreating figure.

“Unwise,” Darby said, joining her. He watched Gelly walk away. “She makes a bad enemy. We lost a hand because she accused him of stealing. Told you about that.”

“She’ll think she’s poked a hornet’s nest if she tries it with me. Nobody warns me off people and gets away with it,” she said curtly. “I don’t have any designs on the boss, for God’s sake! I don’t even know him. I just work here!”

Darby patted her on the shoulder paternally. “There, there, don’t let it get you down. Two nights’ sleep and you’ll forget why you argued with her. Come on in and eat. We’ve got chili and Mexican corn bread that Mavie made for us. She’s a wonderful cook.”

“Yes, she is,” Morie agreed. She grimaced. “Sorry. I don’t usually lose my temper, but she set me off. What a piece of work!”

“I do agree. But she’s the boss’s headache, not ours, thank God.”

“I suppose so.”

She followed him inside.

BUT THAT WASN’T THE END of it. Mallory called Morie up to the big house, and he wasn’t smiling as he motioned her into the living room and closed the door.

“Sit down, please.” He indicated a leather chair, not the cushy brocade-covered white sofa. Her jeans were stained with grass and mud from helping with calving. Probably he didn’t want a brown-spotted couch, she thought wickedly.

She sat. “Yes, sir?”

He paced. “Gelly said that you threatened her.”

“Did she?” She sounded amazed. “How odd.”

He turned and stared down at her with piercing dark eyes. “I’d like to hear your side of the story before I decide what to do.”

She cocked her head and studied him. “I’ll tell you, if you’re sure you want to know, boss. But I won’t sugarcoat it, even though I need this job.”

He seemed surprised. “Okay. That’s a deal. Shoot.”

“She warned me off you,” she said simply. “Then she threatened to have me fired. Finally, she tried to slap me and I blocked the move. She left and I went back to work.”

“In between, there’s some stuff missing,” he pointed out. “Like what you said that made her try to slap you.”

“She said that I was after you because you were rich and I was poor,” she added. The words did sting, despite Morie’s background. “She also said cowboys were smelly and stupid and that she could get me fired if she liked. I told her that I didn’t like threats and that perhaps I should ask you if you were her personal property. That’s when she tried to slap me.”

He just stared at her. He didn’t speak. God knew what Gelly had actually told him about the incident.

“I’ve never known her to get physical with anyone,” he returned. “She was crying.”

“Oh, gee, I’m sorry,” Morie said with cutting sarcasm. “Start a fight and lose it and then go crying to some big, strong man to make it all right. That how it goes?”

His jaw tautened. “I’m the boss.”

“Yes, you are, sir,” she agreed. “So if you want to fire me, go right ahead. There are a few ranches where I haven’t tried to get work yet. I’m willing to give them a try.”

He let out an angry sigh. “You might just admit that you were wrong and apologize to her,” he said curtly.

“Apologize when I was defending myself from an attack?” she asked. “How does that work, exactly?”

“She said you started it.”

“And I say that she did.”

He looked even angrier. “She’s a socialite. You’re a hired hand on my ranch. That’s what makes the difference.”

“I get it.” She nodded, trying to contain her temper. “It’s the class thing, right? She’s rich and I’m poor, so she’s right.”

“You work for me, damn it!” he shot back. “And you’re that close—” he held up his forefinger and thumb a fraction apart “—to not working for me!”

Her small hands balled up at her sides. “Nobody throws a punch at me and gets away with it. I don’t care who she is! If she’d landed that blow, I’d have had her prosecuted and I’d call every damned newspaper and television station in Wyoming to make sure everybody knew what she did!”

His eyes were glittering. “She said you told her that you wanted me and you were going to get me, and she’d be out in the cold!”

She rolled her eyes. “Good grief, you’re almost old enough to be my father,” she burst out. “What in the world was she thinking?”

He had been pacing while they talked, but as she spoke her last sentence, he’d stopped and stared at her. Then he moved like greased lightning toward her.

His mouth came down on hers with a pressure and skill that shocked her speechless. While she was trying to decide on a course of action, he backed her up against the wall between two landscape paintings, lifted her and braced his body against hers. The kiss was, at first, a medium of his anger. And then, quite suddenly, it was something entirely different.

She felt one big, warm hand high on her hip, his long leg insinuating itself between both of hers. He shifted, so that she felt him intimately. He was aroused and apparently not shy about sharing the fact with her. His mouth eased and became persuasive, teasing her lips apart while his hand positioned her slender hips so that he could get even closer.

She shivered. No man had ever made such a sudden, sensual pass at her, and she’d never felt such a surge of utter and absolute pleasure at physical contact.

But when the contact grew even more intimate, and she felt her body urging her to help him with that zipper he was trying to undo, she came to her senses.

She dragged her mouth out from under his with reluctance. “No!” she whispered. “No, don’t!”

She pushed at his chest weakly. If he insisted, she wasn’t sure that she could stop him. She didn’t want to stop him… .

He was out of his mind with the pleasure. He hadn’t felt it in years, certainly not with Gelly, who was something of a cold fish, despite her flirting. Morie had made a sharp remark about his age and it had hit him in a sore place. But this was insane. He was taking advantage of the hired help!

He dragged himself away from her and looked down. She was flushed and shaking. But it wasn’t from fear. he knew women. She was as aroused as he was. She hadn’t protested the kissing, but she wasn’t willing to go further. She behaved as if she’d never had a man. He frowned. Could there be a virgin left in the world? Sometimes he doubted it.

“I’m not an old man,” he said angrily.

She was still trying to get her breath. “Oh, no, you’re definitely not old,” she managed. She could taste him on her mouth, smell the woodsy cologne he wore on her clothing.

He averted his eyes. He didn’t lose control of himself, ever. This was embarrassing. “Sorry,” he said stiffly.

She swallowed. “It’s okay. But I should go back to work now.”

“Yes, you should.”

She moved away from the wall, hoping she wasn’t more disheveled than she felt, and that Mavie wouldn’t be around to see her when she left.

He didn’t say a word. He watched her go, stiff and uncomfortable, and pondered Gelly’s remark that Morie was a rounder who was looking for a rich sugar daddy. He knew that wasn’t true. She might be poor. She might even have designs on him for his wealth—it wouldn’t be the first time. But she was innocent. He’d have bet the ranch on it.

MORIE AVOIDED THE OTHER cowboys when she went riding fence lines. She hoped she didn’t look as disconcerted and unsettled as she felt. The boss had kissed her. No, she corrected, that hadn’t been a kiss. That had been something a lot more overt and sensual. She’d been saucy and deliberately provocative. She’d taunted the sleeping bear, but she hadn’t expected such a response.

Her mouth still tingled from the kiss. He might not be the handsomest man around, but he knew exactly what to do with a woman. She hadn’t wanted him to stop. That would have been a disaster. He might have wanted her side of the story, but it was obvious that he believed part of Gelly’s story. He wanted Morie to apologize to that blond shark, did he? Well, hell would freeze over first. She was the injured party. Gelly should apologize, not her.

But Gelly was the woman in his life. She was wealthy and pretty and cultured. Morie had the same background, but she didn’t dare admit it. She couldn’t keep her job if the boss knew who her family was.

Which brought to mind another small problem. The boss was having a gala party on Saturday. Morie had been helping Mavie with recipes and tips on serving and place settings and even decorations. Mavie wanted her to help make the canapés. She’d even asked the boss, so Morie was in something of a spot.

As long as she could hide in the kitchen during the festivities, it would be all right. But her family traveled in the same social circles that the Kirk brothers did. It was possible, even probable, that there would be someone at that party who would recognize her. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to get this job, mainly because she wanted to prove to her parents and herself that she could make it in the world on her own, with no money and no influence. There was also the question of not being pursued for her wealth by some fortune-hunting male on the make.

She wasn’t going to lose her job. She just had to stay out of sight in the kitchen. If she refused to help Mavie, that would lead to questions she couldn’t answer. She agreed. But she was going to wear a kerchief over her hair and an overall and keep hidden. She only hoped none of the guests were comfortable enough to come in and speak to the cook. That wasn’t likely, though. Of course it wasn’t.

THE BIG HOUSE WAS ABLAZE with lights, inside and out. The weather was perfect. It was a beautiful spring night, the temperature was unusually comfortable and guests wandered around inside and out nibbling on canapés and drinking the best imported champagne.

Mavie was fascinated by the people she and her hired staff were feeding. “Did you see that movie star?” she exclaimed. “I just watched his last film, and now he’s got a series on one of the pay-perview channels. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

Morie peered out and chuckled. She knew the man, who was sweet and unaffected by his great fame. “He’s a doll,” she said.

“There’s that soccer star who’s paid millions a year,” Mavie continued. “And that’s the president of one of those desert countries overseas!”

“Philippe Sabon,” Morie blurted out without thinking. Her father knew the man, whose wife was from Texas.

Mavie glanced at her suspiciously.

“I read about him in the newspapers,” Morie covered quickly. “What a story! He’s even more handsome in person!”

Mavie gave an emphatic nod. “Yes, he sure is.”

“We’d better get back to work,” Morie groaned. “Look at how fast those trays are going down!”

“Good thing we’ve got plenty of raw material in here.” Mavie chuckled.

They worked steadily for the next hour, making and baking succulent treats for the guests. The band was playing some lazy blues tunes, and a few couples were dancing in the big family room by the patio door.

“You should be in there dancing and having fun,” Mavie said. “You’re young enough to enjoy these parties.”

Morie gaped at her. “I’m the hired help.”

“Baloney. The boss doesn’t think like that.”

“Want to bet?” Morie murmured under her breath. She’d already had an unforgettable taste of the boss’s attitude toward the lower classes. It had a sting.

Mavie glanced her way. “You want to watch that Gelly person. She was raging to the boss about how you talked to her like a dog and said she was a useless person.”

“I said no such thing!” Morie replied indignantly.

“Just telling you what she’s saying” came the soft reply. “I’ve seen women like her all my life. They purr when they’re around the man in charge and claw when they’re not. She isn’t as wealthy as she makes herself out to be. One of my friends works for her folks, and gets paid nothing, not even minimum. She says they put on airs and pretend to be rich, but they’re barely middle class. Gelly’s hoping for a rich husband to prop up the family finances. She’s got her eye on the boss.”

“If he’s nuts enough to marry her, he’ll get what he deserves,” Morie pointed out. “That woman has more sharp edges than a razor’s blade.”

She nodded in agreement. “I think she does, too.”

It was almost ten o’clock. The staff would leave soon, and so would most of the guests. Morie would be glad to see her bed. She’d been on her feet since daylight. She was half-starved, as well, because she hadn’t had a dinner break. Neither had Mavie.

“I’m so hungry.” Morie sighed.

“Me, too. We’ll save a few canapés for ourselves,” she said, laughing. “I’ll put some on a plate for you to take back to your room.”

“Thanks, Mavie.”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “You’re a wonderful little worker. I couldn’t have managed this alone.”

She grinned. “I like working in the kitchen.”

“Me, too. Call me old-fashioned, but I love to cook… .”

“WHERE’S THAT WONDERFUL cook?” came a familiar deep voice from the doorway. A minute later, Morie’s uncle Danny Brannt came through the doorway, laughing. He stopped dead when he spotted Morie.

She put her finger to her lips, when Mavie’s back was turned, and shook her head frantically.

“Who’s the cook?” he repeated, beaming at Mavie. “I just had to thank you for those delicious canapés. It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted anything that good.”

“It was me—” Mavie laughed “—but my helper here came up with most of the recipes.” She indicated Morie. “She’s Morie,” she added. “I’m Mavis, but everyone calls me Mavie.”

“I’m happy to meet you,” he said. “Both of you.” But when he looked at Morie his eyebrows lifted. “Like working here, do you?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes, very much,” she replied.

He pursed his lips. “Can I speak with you for a minute?” he added. “I want to ask you something about that little sausage canapé. For my housekeeper,” he said.

“Sure,” she replied.

He walked to the back door, held it open and let her go out before him. She worried that it might make Mavie suspicious, but she had to make him understand. She explained what she was doing.

“What the devil are you up to?” he asked seriously. “Your dad would have a fit if he knew you were working for wages on a ranch!”

“You can’t tell him,” she replied firmly. “I’m going to show him that I can make it on my own. He doesn’t have to like it. But if you tell him where I am, he’ll come up here and make trouble. He’ll be telling the boss what I can and can’t be expected to do and it will ruin everything. You know how he is.”

“I guess I do.” He frowned. “How did you get a job way up here?”

“A friend of a friend told me they were hiring. And what are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

“I met Cane during a trial. He was a friend of the plaintiff, a land case I heard in superior court in Texas. We had lunch and became friends. Good heavens, I had no idea I’d come to his party and find my niece cooking for it!”

She laughed. “Well, somebody had to. Mavie had no clue about canapés and Mom makes the best I ever tasted. So does Aunt Edie and your housekeeper.”

“If your dad ever finds out about this…”

“He won’t. And if he ever does, I’ll defend you,” she promised confidently.

He shook his head. “You always were a handful, even when you were little.”

“And you always loved me anyway, Uncle Danny.”

“Yes, I did.” He hugged her warmly. “Okay, I guess you know what you’re doing. I won’t tell Kingston. But there will be a dustup when the truth comes out. You’ll have to protect me,” he added with a grin.

“You know I will. Thanks.”

“What are you doing out here instead of working, Miss Brannt?” Gelly’s shrill, angry voice came from the doorway. “You are not to have private conversations with my guests, you little gold digger!”

Danny moved into the light. The woman’s attitude toward his niece pricked his temper. He’d already formed an opinion of Gelly Bruner, and it wasn’t a good one. “I’m not your guest,” he pointed out coldly. “I came to see the Kirks.”

She flushed and looked uncertain.

“Why don’t you go back to the party and stop trying to micromanage your boyfriend’s staff?” he drawled. “Perhaps I should have a word with him… .”

“Sorry,” Gelly said stiffly and managed a cool smile. “Excuse me, please.”

She almost ran off.

Morie was stifling laughter. Her uncle could be as intimidating as her father ever was, even if he was usually the easygoing one of the brothers.

Mavie had stepped over to the doorway after Gelly had raced away. She’d obviously heard every word of the exchange with Gelly. Now her eyes were dancing. “Want to stay? I’ll cook for you anytime,” she added.

He laughed. “Sorry. I have my own business to take care of. The canapés were really delicious. And thanks for the recipe,” he told Morie. “I hope I’ll see you again one day.”

“Same here,” she replied, smiling. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “My pleasure.” He gave her a last wave before he went back into the family room.

“Who is he?” Mavie asked her.

“A superior court judge from Texas who’s a friend of Cane’s, apparently,” Morie replied innocently. “He wanted me to tell him how to make those sausages so he could get his housekeeper to make them for a party he’s having soon. Imagine that! I got to talk to a real judge!”

“He wasn’t bad-looking, either,” Mavie said with a grin. “Did you say something to Gelly?” she added worriedly.

“No, I didn’t say anything. But you heard what the judge said,” she added. “She came out to tell me to stop mingling with her guests and get to work. He said she needed to mind her own business.”

“Ha!”

Morie’s smile widened. “He’s such a nice man. I wish we could keep him.”

“Me, too.” Mavie looked uneasy. “You’ll be in trouble, though.”

“I’m always in trouble. Let’s clean up and then I want to go to bed.”

“I’ll just put some of those canapés on the plate for you.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a great little worker,” Mavie returned. “I like having you around.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time,” Morie replied, touched.

Mavie just smiled.

MORIE SAT IN FRONT of her small television and watched an old black-and-white comedy while she ate her canapés. They’d turned out very well. What a surprise to have her uncle show up at the Kirks’ party. She wasn’t aware that he knew Cane. At least she’d been able to get him to keep her secret from her father. She shuddered to think what King would say to her boss.

She knew her mother hadn’t told King Brannt where his daughter was working, or what she was doing. Shelby had mentioned that she’d said Morie had a nice job at a department store but she hadn’t said where. What a joke. Morie couldn’t have sold heaters to people living in the Yukon.

It had been several days since Mallory had kissed the breath out of her. He’d been avoiding her ever since. Or she’d been avoiding him. It had been unexpected and shocking, but a delicious little interlude that played over and over in Morie’s mind. She’d loved it. But obviously the boss hadn’t. It seemed that he wanted to make sure she didn’t get any ideas about his interest. He’d made a point of being businesslike every time he spoke to her now. There was no more light teasing or pleasant conversation. It was strictly business.

She finished the last canapé and turned off the television. It was up at dawn for more calving and she was still achy and stiff from helping Darby pull two calves that simply weren’t anxious to be born. Their reward was the soft bawling sound the calves made when they were delivered and stood up, wobbling away to be licked clean by their mothers.

It was incredible to help deliver a calf. The process of birth was fascinating to anyone who worked around livestock. The cycle of life and death was a never-ending one on a ranch.

Morie loved working outdoors, away from the city, away from traffic and regimented life. Here, the time clock was the sun. They got up with it and went to bed with it. They learned how to identify birds by their songs. They learned the subtle weather signs that were lost in electronic prognostication. They were of the earth. It was the most wonderful job going, Morie thought, even if the pay wasn’t top scale and the work was mostly physical labor that came with mussed, stained clothing. She wouldn’t have traded it to model Paris gowns, and she’d once been offered that opportunity. It had amused and pleased her mother, who wasn’t surprised when Morie said she’d rather learn how to rope calves.

Her father would never teach her. Her brother, Cort, got the ranch training. Her primitive dad, who was living in the Stone Age, she often told him, wanted her to be a lady of leisure and do feminine things. She told him that she could work cattle every bit as well as her brother and she wanted to prove it. Her dad just laughed and walked off. Not on his ranch. Not ever.

So she found someone else’s ranch to prove it on. She’d gotten her college degree. Her dad should be happy that she’d accomplished at least one thing he’d insisted upon. Now she was going to please herself.

She threw on a nightshirt and a pair of pajama bottoms and climbed into bed. She was asleep in seconds.

THE NEXT MORNING, the boss came down to the barn, where she was feeding out a calf whose mother had been attacked by a pack of wolves. The mother had died and state agencies had been called in to trap the wolves and relocate them.

Mallory looked down at her, with the calf on her knees, and something cold inside him started to melt. She had a tender heart. He loved the picture she made, nursing that calf. But he pulled himself up taut. That couldn’t be allowed. He wasn’t having any more embarrassing interludes with the hired help that could come back to bite him.

She looked up and saw him watching her. She averted her eyes. “Morning, boss,” she said.

“Morning.”

His tone wasn’t reassuring. She sighed. “I’m in trouble again, I guess.”

“Gelly said you put a visitor up to insulting her when she told you to get back to work in the kitchen,” he said flatly.

Morie just sighed.

“Well?” he persisted.

“The guy was a superior court judge who wanted my canapé recipe for his housekeeper, so I went outside with him to give it to him,” she replied wearily. “Miss Bruner interrupted us, and he was angry at the way she spoke to me. I didn’t put him up to anything.”

He frowned. “A judge?”

“Well, he said he was,” she replied, flushing. She wasn’t supposed to know the occupations of his guests.

“I see.”

No, you don’t, she fumed silently. You don’t see anything. Gelly leads you around by your temper, and you let her.

He hesitated. “The canapés were very good.”

“Thanks. Mavie and I worked hard.”

“Yes.” His dark eyes narrowed. “How is it,” he continued suspiciously, “that you know so much about how to organize a high-society party? And just where did you learn it?”