Читать книгу Wanted: Christmas Mummy - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 8

“Justin!” Doug yelled even as he charged down the hall. The appearance of his towheaded son at the door was a relief, but he didn’t have time to appreciate it then.

Racing into the kitchen, he grabbed the handle of the skillet on the burner, the flames in it higher than the ones underneath. As he swung it to the sink, the searing iron of the skillet burned into his hand, and he let loose a bloodcurdling yell.

A slim hand reached around him and turned on the cold water, directing the flow into the skillet. The smoke tripled as cold met hot. Before he could think how to relieve the pain that was shooting through him, that same hand grabbed his and, redirecting the water to the other sink, put his palm under the flow of water.

“Don’t move,” she ordered.

Vaguely he was aware she’d extinguished the flames on the stove. But he didn’t know where she went until she dumped a handful of ice cubes into the deepening water. But he wasn’t going to complain. He was in agony.

“Aren’t you supposed to use butter or something?” he asked, his voice gritty as he tried to hide his pain.

“No. That’s the worst thing to use.” She made another trip to the refrigerator for more ice.

He had forgotten his children until he heard a giggle and then watched as they dropped ice cubes into the water.

“We never made icewater in the sink before. Is Daddy gonna drink it?” Justin asked.

“No, he’s not,” the woman answered, smiling at the boy. “We’re trying to stop his hand from burning.”

“Like the skillet? Is he gonna have fire in his hand?” Gareth asked as he rose on tiptoe to peer over the side of the sink.

“No,” she said again. “But his hand is going to hurt a lot.”

Justin and Gareth frowned.

“Does it, Daddy?” Gareth finally asked.

“What?” Doug muttered, his mind intent on the woman’s actions rather than his sons.

“Does it hurt really bad?”

“Yeah.” His gaze met the woman’s and he realized he owed her his thanks. “Uh, I appreciate your help.”

A half smile and a shrug was her only response.

“How long do I have to keep my hand in the water?”

“You can take it out whenever you want, but it’s best to keep it in until the burning stops.” She had that sexy voice he remembered from the answering machine—soothing at the moment, warm.

“I’m gonna look pretty funny on a horse with a sink attached,” he muttered.

Another smile. Suddenly he wondered if she ever laughed. If her blue eyes lit up and her lips— What was wrong with him? He didn’t even know this woman.

“I think a half hour will be long enough.”

She didn’t even seem put out by his ill humor. His eyebrows rose slightly as he stared at her.

“Daddy?” Justin asked, jerking on his jeans.

“What, son?”

“What are we gonna eat for dinner? We’re hungry.”

Leslie looked down at the identical pairs of brown eyes. The boys were cute, but something in the looks they were giving her made her wonder about their guilelessness.

After an awkward silence, she said, “I could fix you something if your father doesn’t mind.” She allowed her gaze to only glance off the man still standing by the sink. He was even sexier than his voice had promised.

“That’s not necessary—”

The children drowned him out with their excited questions.

“Can you make cookies?” one of the twins demanded, a smile on his face, as if he already knew the answer.

“I told you I could,” she said, raising one brow.

“That was you?” the boys asked, excited looks on their faces.

“What do you mean?” the man growled. “What is she talking about, Gareth?”

“Didn’t you tell your father about my phone call?” Leslie asked, looking from one twin to the other. Their brown eyes widened to give them a look of innocence, but Leslie wasn’t fooled. She turned to their father. “I’m sorry, Mr. Graybow. I thought you were expecting me.”

“What are you talking about? What phone call? Boys, what have you done this time?”

“But, Daddy, she can make cookies.”

“And she said she likes little boys,” Justin added.

The frustration and anger in the man’s brown eyes, quite like his sons’, gave Leslie the answer to whatever question she might ask. The man wasn’t interested in hiring her, even on a temporary basis.

“Sorry, guys. I guess this was a bad idea.” She smiled at the little boys and turned to go.

“But what are we going to eat for dinner? Daddy gots his hand in the sink, and we’re hungry,” one of the twins repeated.

Leslie hesitated. Though she recognized their plea as one of manipulation, she wouldn’t mind a little dinner herself. It was a long drive back to town. “I make a very good grilled-cheese sandwich. If your father doesn’t mind, I could fix some.”

Though seemingly reluctant, the man at the sink gave an abrupt nod and the boys cheered.

For the next few minutes, they were her guides around the large kitchen. Leslie didn’t find it as well stocked as she would have expected, but she opened a can of soup and heated it on the stove as she made the sandwiches.

The entire time she worked—efficiently, she hoped—the head of the household stood by the sink, his hand under the cold water, glaring at her.

What was his problem? Was he afraid she intended to charge him for her efforts? Maybe they couldn’t afford a housekeeper now. She didn’t know much about ranching, but she supposed a rancher, just like any other businessman, could have sudden catastrophes that affected his cash flow. That would explain the reason for the lack of supplies, too.

That thought sent her sharp glance to him. She noticed his shirt was missing a button, his hair was a little shaggy and his boots well-worn.

Leslie’s irritation melted at once. How terrible not to be able to provide adequately for his family. Since money wasn’t one of the difficulties she faced, she could afford to be generous. But tactful. She’d be very tactful.

After the boys had each received their dinner, she fixed two more sandwiches, one for her and one for the angry man staring at her.

“It’s been about half an hour, Mr. Graybow. I think you can safely take your hand out of the water.”

“The damn thing’s frozen,” he muttered.

Leslie was waiting with a towel and reached out to wrap the chilled skin in it. With a growl, Doug snatched it from her.

“I can do it.”

The sympathetic tolerance she’d been silently extending to him the past half hour almost completely disappeared. She stepped back and gestured to the table.

“Your dinner is ready. I hope you don’t object to my eating also. I didn’t eat supper before I came out here.” But she took nothing for granted, standing stiff and proper until he offered her a seat.

Doug almost groaned aloud. He knew he’d been a bear. Standing there in pain, watching her prance around his kitchen, charming the hell out of his kids, when he’d already told her to get lost, was almost more than he could stand. Now, after fixing a meal, she expected him to kick her out? He must’ve been worse than he’d thought.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he muttered and warily circled her and the table until it was between them.

As they both sat down, the boys, having already begun eating and taken the edge off their hunger, looked up.

“What’s your name?” Gareth asked, his mouth full of sandwich.

“Leslie Hibbets,” she replied as she laid the napkin in her lap.

Doug, having reached for his sandwich, instead picked up his napkin. “Boys, put your napkins in your laps.”

He wasn’t going to have Miss Prim and Proper thinking they had no manners.

“But, Daddy, we don’t—” Gareth began.

“And, Gareth, don’t talk with your mouth full,” he hurriedly added. Both boys muttered apologies and he stared at the woman in triumph. She ignored him and smiled warmly at his children.

“Leslie,” Justin said, staring at her in return.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say your name. It’s pretty, like you.”

“Why, thank you. What’s your name?”

“I’m Justin and that’s Gareth. But mostly people can’t tell us apart.”

Gareth giggled. “Our Sunday school teacher hates that. She makes us wear name tags.” He giggled again. “But sometimes we switch and she doesn’t know.”

“Some people just call us ‘the twins’ ‘cause they don’t know which is which,” Justin supplied.

“Yeah, and some people call us ‘the twins from hell,’” Gareth added with another giggle.

She flashed a look, one eyebrow lifted, at their father. He glared back at her.

Hell, what was he supposed to do about the trouble the twins got into while he was trying to run a ranch? He never abandoned them. But cowboys who could handle the toughest bull seemed to disintegrate when left with these two.

“Gareth, eat your dinner,” he snapped and stared at the woman, silently daring her to complain.

Though she met his look with all the coldness of a Wyoming blizzard, she said nothing.

With a sigh, he picked up the sandwich. He didn’t much feel like defending his parental performance. Not when it had been seven hours since lunch. And those hours had been spent on horseback, rounding up the herd to draw them closer to the barns.

Before he even realized it, the soft golden cheese and toasted bread had melted into his mouth. He finished off the soup just as quickly, still hungry. The boys, too, had had a busy day and they had also cleaned their plates.

“Why don’t I make some more sandwiches?” Miss Hibbets offered the boys with a smile. Their eager nods reflected his own thoughts. He only hoped she intended to include him as a recipient of those additional sandwiches.

He had his answer almost at once. She rose from the table, but before moving away she held out her plate to him. “I haven’t touched the other half of my sandwich. Would you like to eat it while I fix more? There’s no need for it to get cold.”

“Thanks,” he replied, reaching for the food. He wasn’t one to cut off his nose to spite his face.

With such generosity on her part, Doug let go of some of his animosity. The woman was a lot better than he’d expected. Besides being attractive, she knew her way around the kitchen and seemed to like his children. She would’ve been a perfect housekeeper. Too bad she didn’t answer that ad. He would’ve hired her in a minute.

When he realized his gaze was fastened on how rounded and smooth her hips filled out the jeans she was wearing, he changed his mind. Nope, he couldn’t even hire her as a housekeeper. He might not be able to keep his hands out of the cookie jar. And then he’d find himself facing marriage again.

She turned toward the table, carrying a plate of sandwiches, and his gaze moved up her body, watching the thrust of her breasts through the blue sweater she wore. He’d been without a woman too long, he assured himself hastily as he looked back down at his empty plate.

It was a good thing this woman would be leaving in a few minutes.

After they’d eaten their fill, with Doug keeping his gaze trained on his plate, Leslie insisted on cleaning the kitchen. Since that was one of Doug’s least favorite chores, he agreed to her offer and chased the twins upstairs for their baths.

“Leslie, don’t leave without coming to tell us bye, please?” Justin pleaded as he climbed the steps.

“Yeah! You can read us a story. Daddy’s always too tired,” Gareth chimed in.

“Only if it’s a short story. I have a long drive back to the motel,” she promised with that warm smile she reserved for his sons.

Not that he cared. He wasn’t looking for that kind of tenderness.

Fifteen minutes later, she joined them in the boys’ bedroom, read one of their stories and then told the boys good-night, adding how much she’d enjoyed meeting them.

Doug was irritated when Justin’s eyes watered and he asked the woman if she couldn’t stay. He felt guilty, as if he didn’t love his sons enough to provide them with a mother. But, damn it, he just couldn’t!

He hurried down the stairs, anxious to rid the place of the curvaceous brunette who lured his sons with her smile and tempted him with her body.

“Mr. Graybow?” she said in a low voice, just behind him. “Before I leave, could we talk?”

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, he turned to watch her reach his side. “If it’s about a phone call, I gather the boys led you to think you should come here. I’m sorry if it was an inconvenience, but, believe me, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I think there is,” she replied, tilting her chin up at him.

If they’d been lovers, it would’ve been a challenge he wouldn’t refuse. His lips would cover hers and he’d wrap his arms around—

“Look, Miss Hibbets, I told you the ad was a mistake.”

“I know. But I think I’ve figured out why you placed the ad and now say it’s a mistake. And I believe I have a solution to the difficulty.”

Doug stared at the woman as if she had two heads. She knew about the responses he’d had to that ridiculous ad? About his aversion to those desperate women? To any woman who intended to lock him into marriage just for security?

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she said in a soothing manner, as if she were calming him.

“You know about the pictures?” he finally had to ask in a strangled voice.

“What pictures?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and frowning in puzzlement.

“The—the other applicants sent pictures.”

“You want a picture from me?”

“No!” he gasped even as his mind flashed some possibilities.

He turned his back to her, unable to face her if she thought those pictures of women in incredibly suggestive, revealing poses weren’t something to be embarrassed about. Or intended to offer some of her own.

“Mr. Graybow,” she began again when he remained silent, “I like your little boys and this is what I really want. I promise I won’t be too demanding about—”

“Leave my children out of this discussion! I won’t have them a part of it. In fact, I don’t want to talk about any of this.” He chanced one look at her creamy complexion, her full lips, trembling with some undefined emotion. How could she look like such an angel and approve of those pictures?

“I’m trying to explain to you—”

He whirled back around. “What does it take to get through to you, lady? We don’t want you here.”

“But you haven’t even asked about my qualifications,” she protested, her cheeks flushed.

Her fingers moved to the first button on her sweater and Doug panicked. She hadn’t sent pictures. She meant to reveal herself right here, right now! He grabbed her raised hand and captured the other one that had remained by her side. “Don’t even think about it!” His voice was husky, a mixture of horror and undeniable interest.

Now almost nose to nose, he watched as shock filled her eyes.

“Turn loose of me!” She twisted in his hold, foolishly trying to escape his strong grip.

His fingers burned as they touched her soft skin, and he jerked away from her before he gave in to temptation. “Gladly. All I want you to do is go.”

She backed away from him, her blue eyes still wide. “You’ve convinced me, Mr. Graybow. Just—just let me get my jacket and purse and I’ll leave.”

He frowned as he realized he’d actually scared her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She didn’t answer but kept her gaze pinned on him, as if she expected him to attack at any moment. Picking up her coat and purse, she edged toward the door.

Doug felt like a first-class heel. He would never hurt a woman. But he couldn’t stand there and let her strip. Moving toward the door to open it for her, he came to an abrupt halt when she stepped back.

“I’m just opening the door, I promise.”

“I can do that,” she assured him breathlessly, her gaze still glued to him.

“This is ridiculous, Miss Hibbets. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“Fine. I’m leaving now, Mr. Graybow. But I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your distance.” When he remained in place, she continued moving to the door.

With one hand behind her back, she turned the doorknob and started outside.

Over her shoulder, Doug stared at the illuminated circle made by the porch light and knew he couldn’t let her leave. “Damn!”

LESLIE WAS ON THE VERGE of turning her back on the demented man and racing for her car when she heard his expletive. Shocked, she looked at his face and then turned away. She had no time to spare.

“Stop! You can’t leave, Miss Hibbets. It’s too dangerous!” he called.

She assumed he was referring to the snow falling thickly. It had started snowing shortly after she started for the ranch, but she’d forgotten about it because of all that had happened. Now, there was already almost half a foot on her car. But she would choose snow over the man behind her any day.

Though she slowed to maintain her footing, she never stopped. She’d be all right once she got into her car and locked the door.

She was down the steps, with her car parked only a few feet away, when one of those strong hands grabbed her arm, preventing her departure.

“Stop, Miss Hibbets. It isn’t safe!”

Automatically she wrenched her arm from his hold. When, only seconds later, she touched the door handle, she knew she’d won.

As she did, she heard a large crash. Keeping her hand on the door, she looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Graybow lying in the snow at the bottom of the steps. He wasn’t moving. Holding her breath, she leaned slightly toward him. “Are you okay?”

His only answer was a groan.

“Mr. Graybow, I’m not going to fall for any of your tricks. You might as well get up.”

He muttered something and tried to stand up, then fell back again with an even louder moan.

“Mr. Graybow?” Was the man a total klutz? First he burned his hand and now he fell down the stairs. And what was she supposed to do about it?

“I can’t— I might’ve broken something,” the man gasped.

That she could believe. It hurt to even look at his lean, muscular leg bent at an odd angle.

“Is there anyone I can call for help?”

“B-bunkhouse,” he muttered, his voice shaking, either from pain or the wet snow beginning to cover him.

Though she could dimly make out another building with a light burning, she decided the easiest way to summon help would be to use her car horn. Opening the door, she slid beneath the wheel, ignoring the temptation to drive away from this nightmare. Grateful for the Girl Scouts of her youth, she tapped out SOS.

Though it only took a couple of minutes for a response, they were the longest two minutes of her life. A distant door was slammed open and she finally heard the welcome sound of voices and footsteps.

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” one of the men shouted as he reached the area lit by the porch light.

Leslie was standing by her car door. She stepped forward. “Mr. Graybow fell. I think he’s broken his leg.”

“Ma’am,” the man said, tipping his hat even as he went down on one knee by his employer.

“Boss? You break a leg?”

“I don’t—damn,” Graybow said and then gasped. “The thing hurts like hell.”

“Curly, go get the four-wheeler,” the man said to one of the cowboys. “It’s about all that will get through tonight.”

A man, supposedly Curly, ran away, and the other man turned his attention to Leslie. “Ma’am, would you go get some blankets from the house? Maybe a sleepin’ bag, too, and a pillow.”

She started to explain that she wouldn’t know where to look, but the man bent back toward his boss, assuming she would follow his orders. With a shrug, she stepped carefully over the injured man and climbed the steps to open the front door.

Two pairs of brown eyes stared at her from the bottom of the stairs. “Leslie!” Justin cried, leaping up and running to wrap his arms around her legs. “You didn’t go.”

Gareth followed his brother and Leslie found it impossible to move. “Boys, I need your help. Your father fell, and I need to find some blankets to keep him warm.”

Gareth ran off to find the items she’d mentioned, but Justin stayed by her side.

“Is Daddy hurt bad?”

She knelt down beside him. “The ranch hands have come to help him. I’m sure he’ll be all right as soon as we get him warm.”

Justin took her hand and led her after Gareth. With the boys’ expert guidance, it only took a couple of minutes to round up the items. The boys followed her to the door, but she made them stay inside in spite of their protests.

The Jeep pulled up just as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Here. I found everything.”

The cowboy ignored her as he gestured for the other men to help him lift Graybow.

“Shouldn’t you splint the leg before you move him?” she asked, concerned in spite of herself.

“Lady, we got to get him out of this blizzard!”

She covered her ears when Doug Graybow gave a mangled cry of pain as he was moved. Fortunately for him, he passed out before they got him into the vehicle.

His cry brought both boys tumbling down the steps, their footed pajamas immediately wet from the snow. “Daddy?” they cried, terror in their voices.

Leslie turned and scooped both of them into her arms and lifted them back to the porch. “Your dad is going to be fine. It just hurt when they moved him.”

“Daddy don’t never complain when he’s hurt,” Gareth assured her.

Leslie could believe that statement. He seemed like the kind of male who could never admit a weakness. Look at how he had refused to listen to her offer because he was embarrassed at not having money for a housekeeper.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but who are you?” the cowboy who seemed to be in charge asked.

“Leslie cooked us dinner,” Justin assured him.

“I—” Leslie began, sure he would demand more of an explanation.

“Oh, a friend. Well, could you stay with the boys? It’ll take two of us to get him to town, and the other two will have to carry on in the morning, so if you don’t mind—” He turned as another moan came from the truck. “Okay?”

Without waiting for her agreement, he leapt down several steps and slid behind the wheel of the truck.

“Wait! I—”

But in seconds the Jeep had completely disappeared in the falling snow, abandoning her to care for two little boys she scarcely knew.