Читать книгу The Highest Bidder - Maureen Child - Страница 30

Soft, inky locks of hair curled at the base of Macy’s neck in damp wisps. Her attempt at piling those strands on top of her head wasn’t working too well, and the whole picture she made sitting on the lounge chair at the pool captured Carter’s attention from the kitchen doorway. Her soft shoulders were exposed and glowing golden, as was every inch of her skin but for the strip of snow-white material covering her curves in a two-piece swimsuit. His mouth had nearly dropped to the ground when she’d found that bikini at the River Rags clothing store in town a few days back.

Carter had tried to talk her out of buying the damn bikini. The point of shopping for clothes was to make her look less conspicuous, not draw any unwanted attention. But her argument had made sense. “No one will see me in it. And I love getting a good tan.”

Apparently, she hadn’t thought he’d counted.

Because he saw her wearing it, and the image wasn’t one he’d likely forget.

She looked rested, which was the plan, and she had stayed out of his hair, just as she’d promised. Trouble was, Carter had seen glimpses of her quiet pool time for three days straight and had wanted to join her.

She came from a different world, he told himself. And he’d already been burned.

Good sense had him turning away from the kitchen sliding glass door, But her inquisitive voice carried to his ears. “Is that you, Carter?”

“Uh-huh. It’s me. But don’t let me disturb you.”

“I can use some disturbing.” Her voice held a gentle ring of frustration. She closed the book and turned her pretty violet eyes on him.

He strolled outside and sat down in a wrought-iron chair in the shade three feet away from her.

“Chicken,” she said with laughter in her voice.

He unfastened the top two buttons on his shirt. “Must be ninety degrees out here. I do enough baking out on the range.”

She tilted her head to the side and then shot a glance over the deep blue waters of his massive pool and the beautiful garden surrounding it. “You could actually use your own pool, you know.”

“And ruin my cowboy image?”

A bubble of laughter escaped her throat. He laughed, too, but his focus drifted from her pretty face to honeyed California skin bathed in sunlight. Her legs were long and sleek and perfectly shaped. Her stomach flat and her breasts…Carter lifted his gaze to meet her eyes.

She flushed pink. Damn, did she expect him not to notice her killer body? His voice grew husky. “Just what kind of disturbing did you want me to do?”

“I, uh…” She gazed past the pool area and garden to the vast open spaces beyond. “I’m bored. I know it’s not your problem, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but besides Henry and Mara and you, I’ve had no human contact for three full days. Well, there was the shopping trip to town, but that was a quick outing and I didn’t exactly make any friends along the way, with my disguise and all. Speaking of that, I don’t think anyone around here would know me—”

“Do you know how to ride?”

Her brows gathered together. “Horses?”

He nodded slowly.

“Of course. I practically grew up riding. My father did a motion picture in Spain and we stayed at this magnificent hacienda. I was six then and I’ve been riding ever since.”

“We’ll go after dinner. At sunset.”

“Really?”

Carter scratched his head. He hadn’t been a good host. The hope in Macy’s voice was proof positive. “Just be sure to wear those cowboy duds you bought. And a hat.”

“It’ll be dark. I don’t think I’ll need a disguise.”

“It’s not for purposes of disguise.” His gaze flashed over her body in an unconcealed sweep that brought his message home.

She blinked and whispered, “Oh?”

She had to know how tempting she looked to him right now. If she hadn’t caught him watching her at the door, he would’ve marched back into his office and tried to forget the sexual awareness that had been niggling at him all week. He was still shell-shocked from Jocelyn’s deception. And Macy was a distraction to his bruised ego, but lusting after her wasn’t in the cards.

But neither of them needed any complications in their lives right now.

“Excuse me, Carter, Miss Tarlington.” Mara stood at the back doorway.

Carter was grateful for the interruption. Things were getting a little hot out here. “Hey, Mara. What can I do for you?”

“Henry’s finished with his interview. He’s impressed and would like you to meet with Mr. Fargo, if you’ve got the time today.”

“Sure, have Henry bring him into the office.”

“I plan to go home with Henry afterward, if that’s all right. Supper’s ready and keeping warm.”

“That’s fine. Thanks, Mara.”

“Okay then. I’ll be saying goodbye to both of you.”

Macy sat farther up in her chair, poking her head around him. “Bye, Mara, and remember to call me Macy.”

Mara nodded and then was gone.

Carter rose from the patio chair and glanced at Macy tying up the straps of her bathing suit top. As she tightened the drawstring, her breasts pushed together. He drew a breath quietly and excused himself.

“See you at supper, Carter,” she said.

“Right,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure which was worse, inviting Macy Tarlington to Wild River Ranch or enjoying her being here even more.

Carter sat behind his large walnut desk in an office situated on the opposite end of the living area of the house. As often as he could, he conducted business from here, rather than driving into Dallas, where he held six thousand square feet of office space for McCay’s Cattle Company. His work included more than cattle buying and selling lately. He’d diversified and had his hands in other ventures as well, but his bread and butter would always be ranching. It was his first love.

Carter met his prospective employee with a cordial smile. He believed that nothing told more about a man than the sincerity in his eyes. “I see from your résumé, Mr. Fargo, you’ve got an extensive amount of experience.”

“I’ve been around the block a few times,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Carter nodded, continuing to sift through his papers. “You’ve done construction, government work and teaching, among other things. What did you teach?”

Bill Fargo leaned over and looked at his paperwork upside down on Carter’s desk. He pointed to the middle of a page. “Says right on there, American history. I coached football for a few years, too.”

Carter leaned back in his seat, perusing the gray-haired man. He was well-groomed, nice looking and in his sixties. Carter liked his confidence. “I played in high school. Running back.”

Bill Fargo gave him a quick once-over. “You hold some long-term records.”

“I do.” Texas and football was like chips and dip. One’s just not good without the other. “It was a while back.”

“Nineteen hundred yards in a single season. You ran for thirteen touchdowns.”

Carter chuckled. “You did your homework.”

“I would take credit for that, but the truth is, I noseyed around town and asked about you. Seems Wild River residents don’t forget football records.”

Carter knew that for fact. “I’m curious. What else did you learn about me?”

“Ex-military. Father’s a drunk. You’re fair in your dealings and run a tight ship.”

The side of his jaw itched. Carter pressed his fingers there, scratching it and staring at the older man. He’d never had his life summed up so succinctly before. The man could have added “recently jilted by your girlfriend” to the list. “The job is for a groundskeeper. To keep watch over the land and an old structure I’m thinking about renovating. You don’t have experience in that.”

Bill Fargo crossed his arms over his slender frame and sat back in his seat. “I kept twenty boys and girls interested in history every semester. Kept a forty-man football team of teenagers from fighting, drinking and bad-mouthing authority. If I’m given a job, I do it. I’ve got some experience with firearms, too.”

Carter’s brows lifted. “I don’t doubt that.” He studied his résumé under Hobbies. “You’re a hunter.”

“That’s right.”

“Why do you want to work here?” Carter asked.

“I need work and Wild River’s a nice enough place to live.”

Carter liked the old guy. He believed he’d get an honest day’s work out of him. “Fair enough.” Carter took a second to go over his résumé once more. Henry liked him enough to recommend him, and he’d made a good impression. “Everything looks good. If you’re in agreement with the terms, you’re hired.”

Carter extended his hand and Fargo’s grip was solid and steady as they shook on it. Then they rose from their seats. “See Henry tomorrow and he’ll go over your duties. Is there anything else I can answer for you?”

“Can’t think of a thing,” Fargo said.

“Great. Then thank you for the interview.”

They said their farewells and Carter watched the older man walk out. He debated about telling him that Macy Tarlington, daughter to the legendary actress, was staying on the property. His trust went only so far, and Carter found himself protective of his new houseguest. He’d wait to see how well Bill Fargo worked out on the ranch before divulging to him Macy’s real identity.

“Thought you should know, I hired someone to keep an eye on the inn at night.”

Startled, Macy glanced up from arranging dinner plates on the kitchen table. She’d been deep in thought and hadn’t heard Carter come in.

“He’s an older man, but capable. You might see him around the ranch.”

Carter walked into the room, his deep Texas drawl drifting over her. He moved with lazy grace, his boots clicking on the stone floor until he was right beside her.

“I, uh, I thought it was safe here.”

“Usually it is. Nothing like this has happened before. Must’ve been some kids looking to get into mischief. A window was broken. Not a big deal. But being that you’re here now, couldn’t hurt to have some extra security.”

“Extra? What else do you have besides the fences and gates?”

She gazed into his clear hazel eyes. He smelled good, like raw earth and musk. He gave her a sly smile. “My men. Most of them carry handguns.”

Macy swallowed hard. She came from a place where owning guns was practically politically incorrect. “Why?”

“Rattlesnakes and rustlers.”

“You’re joking?”

Carter brushed her shoulder softly when he turned to get the pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. He brought it over to the table. “You wouldn’t say that if you were staring into the beady eyes of a diamondback.”

She gasped. “Have you?”

He poured iced tea into two glasses. He set one by each of their plates. “At least a dozen times.”

She rubbed the shiver out of her arms. “I hate snakes.”

“They probably don’t like us too much, either. Hazards of ranching.”

“But this place is like a resort. I mean, you’ve got lovely grounds, gardens and pools. And a tennis court.”

Carter sipped his tea. “It’s all a facade.”

“Now you are joking.” Macy nibbled on her lower lip. She’d never thought, for one moment, that she wouldn’t be safe on the ranch. “You didn’t say anything about snakes when you showed me around the grounds the other day.”

“I was watching, don’t you worry.”

She thought back to how carefree she’d felt on that walk. “But you didn’t have a gun on you.” She paused and blinked. “Did you?”

“I had a knife.” Carter smiled and walked over to the stove top. “You’re not backing out on the ride, are you?”

“Oh, uh…” The thought had crossed her mind, but Macy rarely wimped out on anything, nude scenes excluded. “No. Don’t be silly. I still want to go.” A little tremor ran through her. “You’ll be armed, right?”

He laughed. “Yeah. But just so you know, it’s kinda hard getting bit by a snake atop a horse anyway.”

She remembered the movie Snakes on a Plane. If they could get on a plane…

Carter lifted the lid on the roasting pan. Mara had left them pot roast, potatoes and steamed vegetables. He took a whiff and made a sound of satisfaction. “Mmm. You ready to eat? I’m hungry.”

“It does smell good.”

Macy redirected her focus. She couldn’t think about guns and rattlesnakes over dinner. Her mind flashed to a few hours ago when Carter had joined her at the pool. Had she mistaken his innuendo? She didn’t think so.

Surely, he was still in love with Jocelyn. Even though she’d betrayed him, losing the person you wanted to spend your entire life with had to stay with you awhile.

Her mother had never gotten over her father’s death. She’d blamed him and had been angry at him for throwing all three of their lives away so easily. There were times Macy was sure her mother hated Clyde Tarlington.

With Carter lending a helping hand, the food was dished up and they ate quietly. He didn’t talk, fuss or drink while he was dining. He gobbled up his meal quickly, as if it was his last one. She’d once heard a friend who’d come from poverty say that eating quickly was a survival habit from childhood. Food had been a luxury, and she’d never known when or if she’d get the next meal.

Macy smiled at Carter. His plate was clean, while she still had half her meal remaining. “Did you always live at the ranch?” she asked.

He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms over his middle. “No. This was my uncle’s place. I lived with him on and off, until I was twelve. Then my uncle took me in permanently and I spent my teen years here. I learned ranching from him. Back then, the house was just three bedrooms and one bath and the herd was small but sturdy. My uncle did okay. He was a good man.”

“What happened to your mom and dad?”

Carter stared at her and shook his head. For a second she didn’t think he would answer. His face filled with pain he’d tried to cover up, but she saw through it. Maybe because she’d recognized the gesture—she’d been known to conceal her own pain at times.

She was sorry she’d asked about his parents, but before she could apologize for her curiosity, Carter gave her this much. “My mom died when I was eight. I remember her fighting with my dad almost every night. She’d be crying in her bed, and I would cry, too. Riley’s selfish and weak and drove my mother to an early grave.” Carter scrubbed his jaw, thinking and staring out the window. “He’s a drunk. Has always been a drunk.”

Those words hit home. She’d heard them spoken too often when her father was alive. The sick feeling she’d had as a kid invaded Macy’s stomach now. She wondered if Carter had had those very same feelings as a boy. She’d gathered he and his dad weren’t close. But she’d never guessed that she and Carter would have so much in common. “I get it.”

Carter shook his head hard. “Doubtful, Hollywood.”

“No, I mean I really get it. My father drove his car into a tree ten years ago. He was drunk out of his mind. He’d won big at the off-track betting venue and was celebrating hard. He was a drinker and a gambler. Back then, Clyde Tarlington’s death was big news. Surely, you’ve heard about it.”

Carter shrugged and shook his head. “I was overseas at the time. Was it hard on you?”

She nodded. “The worst. My mother went into a deep depression and couldn’t really deal with me. I was sixteen at the time.”

“That’s a tough age.”

“Tell me about it.”

Carter’s chair scraped stone as he pushed back and rose from his seat. Clearly, he was done with this conversation. “Hey, Duke and Honey are waiting for us. And they need the exercise as much as we need to clear our heads. You ready?”

“I’ve got my boots on, don’t I?” She kicked up one foot to show it off.

Carter glanced at the boots she’d bought in town the other day. Then he skimmed his eyes over blue jeans and the plain white shirt she wore and gave a nod of approval. “Let’s ride.”