Читать книгу Branded with his Baby - Stella Bagwell - Страница 9

Two days later, on the dirt drive that led to the Apache Wells ranch house, Maura was finishing the last of a two-mile jog. The early afternoon sun was hot. Sweat sheened her body and dampened her red tank top. The thought of languishing over a tall glass of iced tea pushed her forward, until the musical ring of her cell phone sounded in the pocket of her shorts.

Pausing in the middle of the narrow road, she fished out the small instrument and was immediately surprised to see the caller was her mother. Now that the Donovan children were all grown and capable of running the Diamond D horse ranch without them, her parents, Fiona and Doyle Donovan, had become regular globe-trotters. Only two days ago they’d been in Ireland visiting relatives on both sides of their extensive families.

“Hello, Mother!”

“You’re out of breath,” Fiona observed. “What did you do, run to the phone?”

“No. I’m out jogging,” Maura explained.

“Oh. I can call back later.”

Having five siblings meant that getting any exclusive, one-on-one attention from their mother was rare and precious. Just having her mother call so quickly after her return home made Maura feel special.

“Nonsense. I can walk and talk for a while,” she assured the other woman. “It’s so good to hear your voice. When did you get home?”

“Late last night. Your father and I are so jet-lagged we’re just getting around to having breakfast. Dallas was the only one still up when we arrived last night and this afternoon everyone seems to be out of pocket.”

“Just because you and Dad live the life of luxury doesn’t mean your children can loll around in bed until midafternoon,” Maura teased as she started to the house.

“Hmm. It’s good to hear that we’ve taught you children good work ethics. And speaking of work, Dallas tells me you’re still with Mr. Cantrell.”

Before her parents had left for Ireland more than a month ago, Abe had not yet approached Maura about the job here at Apache Wells. But once she’d decided to take the old man’s offer, she’d called her parents in Ireland and told them about her decision. Neither had understood her choice to abruptly change jobs, but they’d hardly tried to deter her. At thirty-six, it had been years since her parents had tried to tell her what to do. And even if they did try, Maura was too stubborn and strong-minded not to take the path she chose for herself. Even if it might be the wrong path, she thought drily.

“That’s right.”

“So what are your duties? Does he keep you busy fetching and complaining?”

Maura smiled to herself. “Not in the least. Right now Abe is out riding range with the rest of the ranch hands. I don’t expect him in until later this afternoon.”

“Riding—” Fiona gasped. “I thought—if I remember correctly, Abe Cantrell is older than your father! And I thought he was ill and needed a nurse!”

The smile on Maura’s full lips deepened even more. “Abe is eighty-four. And he’s as healthy as a horse. Except for when he gets vertigo. And thankfully that’s only happened once since I’ve been here.”

There was a long pause and then Fiona said in a slow, pointed voice, “Maura, I may be butting in, but I’d like to know why you gave up a wonderful, good-paying job at the hospital for a man who only needs you occasionally?”

“Abe needs me more than occasionally, Mother.”

“You just assured me he was healthy and—”

“He needs me in other, emotional ways. Having me here makes him feel secure. Besides that, he’s lonely and starved for affection.”

“Maura!” Fiona said in a scolding tone. “You hardly know this man. His emotional needs aren’t your responsibility.”

Maura had told herself exactly that same thing. More than once. Yet for some reason she couldn’t explain to anyone, a part of her had connected to the old man the minute she’d first met him striding down a hallway at Sierra General. He’d been trying to find his way through the maze of corridors to the closest exit and Maura had offered her help. The two of them had hit it off instantly and before Abe had left the building, he’d offered her the private nursing job.

“Mother, I’m a nurse and Abe needs mental and physical nourishing. That’s what my job is all about,” Maura responded. “The degree of his need has nothing to do with things.”

On the other end of the line, she could hear her mother sighing softly. “You’ve gotten attached to this man. I can hear it in your voice,” Fiona said flatly.

“I suppose I have.”

“And what about Frankie, his daughter-in-law? And his grandson—what is his name?”

“Quint.”

“Yes, Quint. What about them, aren’t they around to see to Abe’s needs?”

Maura talked to Frankie on a frequent basis and the woman had made it clear that even though she checked in on Abe from time to time, Quint was the one relative the old man wanted and needed in his life. Frankie had also assured her that she was going to keep mum about Maura and let Abe be the one to tell his grandson about having a nurse. Obviously Frankie had kept her word. Two days ago, when he’d appeared unannounced in the kitchen, he’d been shocked to find Maura there and she’d been totally tilted off-kilter by his presence. Since then it had been impossible to forget the strong physical reaction she’d felt toward the man. Just thinking about him made her feel utterly foolish.

“The Cantrells are busy people. Just like you and Dad. They have lives of their own to deal with.”

In fact, the night Quint had sat down to eat supper with her and Abe, he’d received some sort of important call and hadn’t even taken the time to gulp more than three bites before he’d quickly departed the ranch. Abe had clearly been disappointed when his grandson had rushed off. As for Maura, she’d felt deflated as she’d watched the man dash out the door. A part of her had wanted more of his company while the other part had been leery of the strange feelings he’d elicited in her.

“I’m sorry if I sounded fussy, darling,” Fiona said after a pause. “If you like the job, that’s all that matters. But I can’t see why you’d want to isolate yourself out there on Apache Wells, though. It’s miles and miles from anything.”

Because the isolation was soothing to her fractured nerves, Maura thought. Because after going through a humiliating, heartbreaking divorce, not to mention the unwanted chase by Dr. Weston, Maura needed the calm quiet of Abe’s home to restore herself.

“My truck is in good working order and I can drive into town whenever I want. I promise to see you and Dad soon.”

“I’m holding you to that promise and—”

Fiona broke off as Maura caught the sound of her father’s voice booming in the background for his wife to hang up the phone and come to breakfast.

“You’d better put the phone down, Mother. Dad never did like waiting on his meals.”

Laughing, Fiona said goodbye and quickly closed the connection between them. Maura put her own phone back in her pocket and trotted on to the house.

She was nearing the porch when the screen door pushed open and Abe stepped onto the small alcove.

“There you are!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been huntin’ all over for you.”

“I’ve been out getting a little exercise,” Maura said with a smile. “Did everything go okay on your ride? Any dizziness?”

He grinned at her and Maura thought that it must be true that the older a man got the more he resembled the boy he’d once been. Abe was one of the most mischievous, prank-playing men she’d ever been around and that included her three rowdy brothers.

“Not even one little spin. Everything went as fine as spring rain. Got the cattle moved and the old pump off the broken windmill. We’ll have it fixed in a few days.”

Maura gestured toward one of the two lawn chairs grouped together on the small porch. “Sit down and I’ll get you coffee or something,” she suggested.

“Don’t have time. We got some green colts penned and some of the boys are gonna try to halter ‘em. I’d better be there. These young’ns try to hurry things along. I have a hell of a time tryin’ to teach them that when you’re dealin’ with horses, the slow way is the fastest way.”

Maura smiled. How many times had she heard her own father say the same thing, she wondered fondly. Like Abe, Doyle Donovan was a horseman and would be until he died.

Turning toward the house, Abe motioned for her to follow. “Come along inside,” Abe said to her. “I’ve got a chore for ya. That is, if you don’t mind doin’ it.”

Curious, Maura followed the old man into the house, where he immediately walked over to a rolltop desk that was situated in one corner of the small living room. Inside the desk, he pulled a large white envelope from one of the storage slots, then waved it in Maura’s face.

“This came in the mail yesterday. Quint needs to look it over. Pronto. I called him last night, but he says he can’t get back over here for a few days. I’d like for you to take these papers over to the Golden Spur.”

Go to Quint Cantrell’s ranch? The thought of seeing the man again sent a thrill of excitement zinging through Maura. Yet at the same time, she was wary of meeting him on her own without Abe’s presence to act as a buffer. The other evening, during his short visit, Quint had been polite enough to her, yet she’d sensed he wasn’t all that pleased about Abe’s having a nurse. If he decided to really jump her out about the issue, she didn’t know how she would handle him.

Lord, Maura, you wouldn’t know how to handle Quint Cantrell under any circumstance. He’s way too much man for a woman like you. And don’t you forget it.

“I—well, if it’s important to you, I’d be glad to,” she finally said. After all, the man was paying her an extravagant wage for being his private nurse. And it was her job to see that he didn’t fret unduly over things. “Is the ranch hard to find?”

“No trouble at all,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll make you a little map while you go fix yourself up or whatever it is you women do before you leave the house.”

Maura wasn’t about to fix herself up for Quint Cantrell, but she couldn’t say that to Abe. Instead she went to her room and hurriedly showered, then changed into a cool white shirt over a pair of Levi’s. After swiping a brush through her hair and a bit of peach color across her lips, she returned to the living room and found Abe waiting with the map and papers in hand.

As he watched her approach, a wide grin spread across his face. “Here you go, honey. The map is easy to follow. Just take your time and don’t get in no hurry to get back here. I feel good. Not nary a vertigo spell. Maybe I’m plumb over ‘em.”

Abe’s way of putting things made Maura want to laugh out loud. Instead, she said with a straight face, “If you’re plumb over them, Abe, then you probably don’t need me to keep hanging around here.”

Frowning now, he reached out a bony hand to grip one of her shoulders. “Maura, now I was just tryin’ to be positive. We both know that those damned spells could hit me right out of the blue. And I ain’t lyin’ when I say that they’re scary things. Makes me feel like I’m dyin’. What would I do if you weren’t around to get my head straight and all those little marbles back in place?”

He had ten men working here on this end of the ranch, not to mention several more on the western half of Apache Wells property. Except for the nights, the man was never alone. True, none of the ranch hands had any medical training, but then Abe wasn’t looking for them or her to keep him physically safe, she realized. It was becoming obvious to her that he wanted her here for other, emotional reasons, and for now Maura was content to leave things at that.

“They’re not marbles that make you dizzy, they’re pieces of calcium that float around,” she pointed out to him. “But don’t worry, Abe. I’m not leaving. I just want to make sure that you’re still okay with me being here.”

The worried frown on his face eased into a genuine smile. “I’m better than okay. Havin’ you around is almost like havin’ Jenna back.”

Maura patted his arm. Since she’d moved onto the ranch, Abe had talked to her a lot about his late wife. He was clearly still in love with the woman and missed her greatly. She empathized with the old man’s loss. Especially now that she was on her own and her bed was as empty as her heart.

“I’m glad,” she said softly, then clearing her throat, she promised, “I’ll be back later this evening.”

An hour later, on Highway 380, Maura very nearly missed the small sign on the left side of the road. Golden Spur were the only words written on the piece of tin nailed to a cedar fence post, but that was enough to tell Maura it was Cantrell property. The simple sign also told her that there was nothing showy about Quint Cantrell.

Turning into the entrance, she drove her Ford over the wooden cattle guard, then pulled to one side of the dusty road to study the map Abe had sketched for her.

From this point she would travel north for ten miles, then take the left fork in the road and drive due west for five more miles. The ranch house, Abe had told her, sat at the foot of a bald mountain.

Before she could take note of the butterflies in her stomach, Maura lifted her chin and stepped down on the gas. There wasn’t any need for her nerves to jump around like a swarm of grasshoppers, she assured herself. It wasn’t like she was going to see the man for personal reasons. All she was doing was making a delivery.

Normally, Quint was rarely in the house during the daytime. He couldn’t waste the daylight. But today the wire stretchers had malfunctioned and barbed wire had popped loose, lashing backward to catch Quint’s forearm. The long barbs had ripped the denim fabric of his shirt like a piece of fragile paper and torn a deep gash into his flesh.

The bleeding had forced him to come to the house and make an effort to patch up the wound. Now as he stood at the bathroom sink, pouring alcohol into the angry lesion and gritting his teeth against the sting, he heard a faint knock at the front door.

Figuring it was the man he’d been working with, he yelled out, “Come on in, Jake. Get yourself a beer from the fridge, while I try to wrap up this thing.”

“Um—this isn’t Jake,” a female voice called back.

Stunned by the sound, Quint wrapped a small towel around the wounded arm and hurried out of the bathroom and down a short hallway to the living room. The moment he spotted Maura standing just inside the door, he halted in his tracks.

“What are you doing here?” he asked without preamble.

She answered his question by holding up a long white envelope. “The papers your grandfather wanted you to have. He sent me to deliver them.”

Papers? Quint couldn’t remember talking to his grandfather about papers, but then his days and nights were filled with so many tasks that after a while everything began to run together. Besides, he could hardly think. Just seeing Maura Donovan standing inside the walls of his house was enough to jar his senses. Dressed in a pair of clinging jeans and a close-fitting shirt, she was just as sexy and attractive as he remembered and for a few seconds he forgot about the pain slicing through his arm.

“Oh. Well, just lay them anywhere, would you? Right now I’m—” Grimacing he glanced ruefully down at his arm. “I’m in a bit of a mess. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll—”

Her eyes followed his gaze down to the bloody towel wrapped around his arm. Quickly stepping forward, she exclaimed, “You’ve hurt yourself! Let me help.”

Quint unconsciously took a step backward. “It’s not that bad. Just give me a minute and I’ll slap a bandage on it.”

Concern marking her brow, Maura placed the envelope on the nearest end table, then closed the distance between them. “Don’t be silly, Quint. I’m a nurse.” Not waiting for his permission, she wrapped her hand firmly around his upper arm. “It’s my job to deal with wounds.”

Since Quint could hardly argue that point, especially now that she had a grip on him, he said, “Okay. I have some things set out in the bathroom. Let’s go in there.”

Dropping her hold on his arm, she followed him down a short hallway and into the small room. A vanity surrounded a white lavatory and after he’d removed the towel and his shirt, she quickly positioned his injured limb over the clean basin.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“A piece of barbed wire came loose from the stretcher and whacked me.”

She was taller than he’d first thought, he realized. If her head hadn’t been bent over his arm, the top of it would have measured to a spot just beneath chin.

“It looks to me as though this could use a stitch or two,” she told him. “Have you had a tetanus shot lately?”

The close proximity of her body was rattling him, while the sweet, flowery scent of her skin and hair seemed foreign to a man that mostly kept his distance from women.

“No,” he answered gruffly. “Just clean the thing out and I’ll take my chances.”

Turning her head, she gave him an impatient glance. “That’s not very smart of you.”

“I’ve never been accused of being smart. Besides, you medical people go overboard with precautionary measures. Gramps would consider this a scratch.”

A soft sigh escaped her. “Have you always tried to fashion yourself after your grandfather?”

“Not always.” Quint certainly wouldn’t have a nurse living with him, he thought ruefully. Especially if he didn’t need one.

Thankfully, she turned her attention back to his arm and Quint gritted his teeth as she used a nail brush to scrub the lesion with water and antibacterial soap.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Trying to rip open my arm even more?”

“Sorry. I know it hurts, but it’s important to make sure no debris is left behind. Was the wire rusty?”

“No. It was new—galvanized.” To his surprise the scrubbing hadn’t made the bleeding worse. In fact, it was on the verge of stopping completely.

“That’s good,” she said. “At least we don’t have that problem to worry about.”

We? It was his arm. As far as he could see, she didn’t have anything to worry about. But he kept the thought to himself. If she was kind enough to offer her services, he could at least show his gratitude.

Once she had the cut clean and dried, she applied antiseptic, then ointment. Quint couldn’t help but notice how her hands had gentled during the process and now her fingers felt warm and soothing against his flesh as she slowly wrapped gauze around his forearm.

“Is this all the gauze you have?” she asked.

“Afraid so. I might have some horse bandage down at the barn,” he suggested.

She glanced up at him and Quint felt something inside him jerk as he met her earthy-green gaze. There was something very womanly about Maura Donovan, something he couldn’t ignore, but was desperately trying to.

“No thanks,” she replied. “I’ll make do.”

Her focus returned to his arm and Quint found himself taking in her dark hair. It was smooth and shiny and threaded with lighter and darker shades that all blended to make an auburn shade so deep it verged on being black. The length of it nearly reached her waist and Quint wondered how it would look draped against her naked back.

“There. That should keep it protected for a while,” she announced as she rose to her full height. “But I wouldn’t advise getting the bandage wet and you’ll have to change it tomorrow or the next day.”

To Quint’s dismay, he realized he’d only caught a portion of her words because his mind had been too busy conjuring erotic images of her. What was the matter with him? Since Holly had dumped him for another man, he’d found it damned easy to ignore the sexual pull of a woman. The humiliation she’d put him through had killed his libido deader than a dose of potassium nitrate.

But now, with this sultry nurse standing far too close for his comfort, he was feeling things again. Things that could only lead to trouble.

“I’ll be sure to take good care of it.”

She slowly released her hold on him, then turned to fetch his shirt from the end of the vanity. When she pivoted back, she was holding the shirt out for him to stick his arms through.

“Let me have it,” he said. “I don’t need help getting dressed.”

“Don’t try to act like such a he-man,” she said softly. “I won’t tell anybody I helped you.”

Knowing it wasn’t wise to linger in such close quarters with her, he decided not to argue and was glad that he hadn’t as he struggled to push the bundled arm through the shirtsleeve.

“Don’t be surprised if your arm is already starting to feel stiff,” she said. “You’re going to have one hell of a sore muscle for a while.”

“I’m finding that out,” Quint muttered.

Once his arms were in the sleeves, she smoothed the fabric over his shoulders, then stepped back to allow him to button the garment himself. Quint found it safer to look at the buttons rather than her.

“A couple of over-the-counter pain relievers will help.”

“I have some in the kitchen,” he told her, then motioned for her to precede him out the door. “Would you like something cool to drink? It’s the least I can do for bandaging me. I was having a heck of a time trying to manage with one hand.”

He began to move down a short hallway and Maura followed him into a large kitchen. A row of paned windows ran along the west wall of the room and without any curtains or shades to cover them, the afternoon sun streamed golden shafts across the old printed linoleum covering the floor.

The house was very livable, yet it was far from fancy. In fact, Maura was totally surprised to see how modest Quint’s living quarters actually were. Anyone who’d lived for any length of time in Lincoln County and beyond was aware that the Cantrell family was rich. Abe owned thousands and thousands of acres and his cattle ranch, Apache Wells, had long been one of the most profitable in the state. On another section of land, just north of Alto, Quint’s father, Lewis, had also built a cattle empire called the Chaparral. Maura had never visited that particular ranch, but her parents and older brother Conall had attended a party there. From what they’d said, the Chaparral house was a showy hacienda with luxury and space to spare. So why was the younger Cantrell living like this? she wondered. Because he wanted to emulate his grandfather?

While he headed to the refrigerator, he gestured toward a small, round dining table. “Have a seat,” he invited. “I have beer, soda or fruit juice. Take your pick.”

“Soda is fine,” she told him as she eased onto one of the wooden chairs.

He carried two chilled cans of cola over to the table and pushed one her way, but didn’t immediately take a seat. Instead, he walked over to a row of cabinets, fished out a bottle of acetaminophen and shook two out in the palm of his hand.

“I’m glad to see you’re going to take my advice,” she said as she popped the lid on her drink.

He tossed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a long drink of the soda before he walked over to the table and took a seat across from her.

“I still have a stretch of fence to finish before it gets dark,” he explained. “I don’t want my arm to get too stiff to work.”

There was no way he needed to be straining his arm using post-hole diggers or wire stretchers, but she wasn’t going to bother pointing that out to him. He was a grown man and his well-being was not her responsibility. Besides, being a nurse had taught her that there wasn’t a man alive who wanted a woman to hamper him with limitations.

“So this is where you’ve been doing all this work that Abe talks about,” she commented. “As I drove up I noticed the new barn. It looks nice.”

“Thanks. The barn is taking a lot more work and twice as much money as I’d first anticipated. But I think it’s turning out okay.”

He must have removed his hat when he’d come into the house to attend his cut, she thought. It was only the second time she’d seen him without the battered felt atop his head. The other being when he’d sat down at Abe’s dinner table. But that occasion hadn’t lasted long enough for him to get the chair warm. Now, as quiet moments ticked by, she couldn’t help but notice the thick, rusty wave dipped across one corner of his forehead, the unruly strands curling around his ears.

His face and arms were tanned as dark as a coffee bean, but the glimpses she’d had of his bare chest told her he wasn’t into lounging around in the sun without his shirt. She doubted he was into lounging around anywhere. From the looks of his lean, hard muscles, the man worked tirelessly.

Her carnal thoughts brought her up short. The two of them were entirely alone and with the letter delivered and his arm bandaged, she no longer had any good reason to remain in Quint Cantrell’s house.

Quickly rising to her feet, she said nervously, “Well, I’m glad that I didn’t interrupt your work—though I guess the injury to your arm had already done that. But I won’t keep you any longer. I promised Abe I’d be back to Apache Wells before it got too late.”

Quint rose to his feet also. “You haven’t finished your soda.”

“I’ve had enough. Thank you.”

She started out of the kitchen and as she did, she could feel Quint’s presence following close behind her. The idea made her heart thump at a rapid pace and she drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm it.

“I’m not in that big of a hurry to get back to work, Maura. Why don’t you let me show you around before you leave?”

His suggestion caught her by surprise and she dared to glance over her shoulder at him. “Do you really want to?”

He suddenly chuckled and Maura was amazed at how different he looked with humor softening his features.

“I don’t make offers unless I want to.”

Something about the husky tone of his voice, the warmth in his eyes, sent prickles of excitement racing through her. She could feel her cheeks growing warm and pink and she suddenly felt like a foolish teenager instead of a thirty-six-year-old woman who’d been married and divorced.

But just for this once, she wasn’t going to think about the dangers this man represented to her peace of mind. Tomorrow she would remind herself that she was behaving like an idiot. Today she was going to let herself enjoy the pleasure of being in the presence of a very sexy man.

“In that case,” she said, “I’d love to have a look around.”

Moving forward, he touched a hand to her back and Maura felt her senses splintering in all directions.

“Good,” he murmured. “Just let me get my hat and we’ll be on our way,” he told her.