by Lori Wilde
Shaking his head to dispel Gil Hollis, Brodie turned his attention to the woman at his side.
Deannie, too, surveyed the surrounding land. She sat up straight, her posture rigid, a faraway expression in her eyes as if she were viewing something from the past. Once again, he got the strangest sensation she was hiding something.
“You’ve got a beautiful place here, Brodie.”
“Thank you. It is my pride and joy. When my father…er…bought it…” He hesitated over the words. No point telling Deannie the sordid truth about his old man. At least not yet. “The previous owner had a drinking problem and had allowed the place to fall into ruins.”
“And your father fixed it up.”
Was that sarcasm in her voice? Startled, Brodie studied her face. Had she heard about Rafe? What had Kenny divulged during that card game?
“No,” Brodie said. “I’m the one who made Willow Creek into the thriving spread it is today.”
“You must be very proud.” More sarcasm? Her face was neutral.
“I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve achieved.”
“I’ll bet.”
He stared at her. There was definitely an undercurrent.
“Your ice cream is melting.” She pointed at his bowl and peeked over at him.
He could smell her sweet magnolia scent. Her aroma mingled with the taste of ice cream, and he was charmed. “My father died a little over two weeks ago,” Brodie said. “I guess I haven’t really come to grips with his death.”
She clicked her tongue. “I know how hard it is.”
“My father and I weren’t very close. But oddly, that makes it harder to accept. Now I’ll never be able to tell him that I did love him despite everything that happened between us.”
“That’s a shame.”
“What about your father?” he asked.
“My father’s dead, too. He passed away six months ago, and we were very close.” She stirred her spoon in the melted ice cream.
“So you understand.”
“Yes.”
“You feel unsettled, disjointed, out of place. Like nothing that seemed important before matters anymore. You start looking for answers to impossible questions, like ‘what’s the meaning of life?’ and ‘why am I here?’ It’s distressing.”
“Exactly.” Deannie shrugged. “That’s the reason I was headed for New Mexico. I’m looking for a fresh start. There’s nothing to keep me in Texas.”
“Nothing?”
She shook her head.
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?” She grinned. “What does that mean?”
“Actually,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you about your trip to New Mexico.”
“Oh?” She studied him with her steady gaze.
Suddenly the air left Brodie’s body as surely as if he had been thrown from the back of his horse. Why did a single glance from this woman knock his emotions every which way?
“Yeah,” he said once he’d inhaled again. “I’ve been thinking, even after Emma gets back home, we will still need someone around to do the cooking and cleaning.”
“What are you saying?” Deannie pursed those peachy lips, and Brodie just about choked on his ice cream.
“I’m offering you the housekeeper job permanently. That is if you’re interested.”
She didn’t answer right away.
“It pays two thousand a month plus room and board. I know it’s not a fortune, but we sure could use the help.” Lord, why did he want so badly for her to say yes?
“I must think about it.”
“Do you have someone special waiting for you in Santa Fe?”
Damn! Why had he asked that question? Brodie set his empty bowl down on the porch and avoided her gaze. He waited, breath bated, for her response.
“No one.”
“So, no family there?”
“I have no family left. I was looking for a new start.”
Stay here. Start here. His heart tripped. “Uh…I’ve got another reason for hoping you’ll take this job.”
“What’s that?” One auburn eyebrow arched prettily.
Brodie shifted and moved closer to her. He rested his arm on the back of the swing. His boots scraped against the porch, and the swing’s chain squeaked its protest.
“I like you, Deannie.” His voice was gruffer than he intended, smoky from the heated emotions burning his chest.
“I like you too, Brodie.” Her smile was genuine, honest, and filled him to the bursting point.
“But all legitimate.” He hastened to add, fearful that she might read an ulterior motive into his job offer. He didn’t want her believing he was conspiring to take advantage of her. “This is strictly a business arrangement. I want you to know that I don’t have hanky-panky on my mind.”
“You don’t?” Her tone was rich, cool as silk.
“No, ma’am.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling naked without his cowboy hat.
“Why not?”
Her question surprised him so much that Brodie almost toppled off the porch swing. Here’s where he needed to tiptoe. Before he got more deeply involved with her, he needed to discover whether she was interested in Brodie, the person, or the successful rancher.
“Because I respect you.”
She eyed him. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”
“Absolutely not.”
Tilting her head, her eyes narrowed. “You’re a breed all your own, Brodie Trueblood.”
“I’m probably not like the men you’re used to.”
“No,” she said, “you’re not. But I’m glad for that.”
It was time to tell her what was on his mind. Brodie didn’t believe in playing mind games or toying with someone’s affections.
“Truth is, Deannie, I want to get to know you better, but I need to take things slowly. There’s a lot going on in my life—settling my father’s estate, getting used to having Emma and her three kids living in the house, dealing with my brother, Kenny, keeping the ranch on track. I have little time for dating, but I will eventually. How do you feel about that?”
“Let me see if I understand you correctly.” Deannie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re seeking a professional relationship between us, but you think you might be open to changing that relationship in the future?”
Her eyes glistened in the moonlight, and in that instant, Brodie felt as if he could see right into her soul. Her pupils widened, and an odd sensation grabbed him with an urgency he didn’t understand. This emotional thread between them seemed to transcend time and place. To carry them beyond the mundane and up into the stars.
He’d never been one to believe in reincarnation and past lives and all that other New Age stuff, but if such things were true, Brodie would swear he’d known Deannie in another existence. The invisible cord binding them was that startling, that strong.
“Yes,” he mumbled, barely able to speak.
“Before I accept your offer, there’s one thing I need to know.”
“What’s that?”
“Under your arrangement, does this mean you couldn’t kiss me?”
Warning, danger, proceed at your own risk! Be careful, Trueblood.
“Do you want me to kiss you?”
In answer, she allowed her eyes to drift closed and tilted her chin up.
Should he kiss her? Was it smart?
Brodie clenched his jaw, his mind at war with his body. He wanted to taste her so badly it caused a searing ache deep down in his soul.
“Brodie,” she cooed, soft as the evening breeze raising the hairs on his wrists.
Stifling a groan, he succumbed to temptation and closed the small gap between them. The swing rocked back and forth as he gathered her into his arms.
He rested his cheek against the top of her head. Her hair smelled of magnolia flowers and warm sunshine. He felt her heart beating against her slender rib cage, tapping out a frantic flurry. She wanted him. Whether the desire was purely physical or something m
ore, he couldn’t tell, but he could tell she was not faking her response.
Her entire body trembled. Her back arched, and she pushed her chest hungrily against his. Tossing her head, she whimpered and exposed her long neck.
Brodie took the invitation for what it was and lowered his mouth to cover an enticing patch of her peaches-and-cream complexion.
Deannie melted at his touch, going limp in his arms as his tongue explored her vulnerable throat.
Like an out-of-control brushfire, sexual need leaped through him, chaotic and desperate. It had been years since he’d been with a woman and never with one who turned him on as much as Deannie.
He knew he should put an end to this before it got out of control, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not without a taste of those beguiling lips.
Brodie wanted her. Here. Now. This minute and no amount of self-coaxing and cajoling could stop him.
“Deannie,” he whispered and took her mouth.
Their kiss flared like a match touched to gasoline. She was the candle, and he the wick.
His forcefulness did not frighten her. She drank him in, her lips soft, cool, and tasting of banana ice cream.
Her teeth parted, allowing him entry.
Brodie’s tongue darted inside the moist recesses of her mouth, and a thrill shot clean through his bones. He felt free, unrestrained, wild. It was an incredible sensation, similar to busting an unruly stallion.
For too long, he’d kept a damper on his emotions, tamping down his feelings to stay even-keeled. Biting his tongue when he longed to tell his father what he thought of him and his itinerant lifestyle. Such restraint had led him to hold back in other areas of his life.
Like in romance.
In reality, he’d always been a little afraid of losing himself in a relationship. He’d seen firsthand what blind love had done to his mother and Emma. They’d both loved Trueblood men, and it earned them nothing but heartache. Although he longed for a woman to offer him that kind of devotion, it also terrified him—she was a woman who liked to party and gamble and hang out in bars.
A woman like Deannie.
That sobering thought splashed over him, ice-water cold and just as startling. It was true, he’d first met her in a bar, drinking and playing cards with Kenny and his friends. And now she was here, kissing him, a virtual stranger, with untamed abandon.
But what about the sweet woman who had cared so tenderly for Angel and Buster, the hopeful voice in the back of his head urged. Would someone out for a good time take on those kids? Was he making value judgments on her based on his family history and not seeing her clearly for who she was?
Just because a woman liked to have fun didn’t mean she was trouble. Maybe it was time to check some of his prejudices and old-fashioned values at the door and reevaluate his outlook before it stunted him.
“Brodie?”
He blinked, realizing he had stopped kissing her and pulled away.
“What’s wrong?” She sat up and touched his shoulder.
Brodie suppressed a quiver and closed his eyes briefly, trying hard to regain control of himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for things to go so far.”
“You just kissed me. That’s all.”
“Openmouthed.”
“Is that too friendly?”
“For a first kiss? Yeah, maybe.”
She fingered her lips, self-doubt written on her face. He hated that he’d caused her to doubt herself.
“It’s not you,” he explained. “I locked up my heart a long time ago, and well…relationships don’t come easily to me.”
“Me either.”
He studied her face. “I’ve been in an emotional deep freeze, but when I’m around you, I feel myself starting to thaw. It’s scary.” But good.
“Does the job offer still stand?”
He avoided looking at her. One glance into those her eyes and he’d be lost again. “Yeah,” he said. “But I think we’d better forgo the kissing for a while. Like I said, I want to get to know you better first, and kissing complicates things.”
She nodded, offering a faint smile. “I agree.”
Brodie got to his feet and walked to the edge of the porch. Take a deep breath, Trueblood, and cool down. He sucked in the sweet spring air, slipped his hands into his back pockets, and stared out across the land.
The land that meant so much to him. The land he’d pampered and cultivated into the thriving outfit it was today. The land that suddenly seemed empty and worthless without someone to share the future with.
Could Deannie be that someone? Whoa, getting way ahead of yourself, partner.
“Brodie?”
The porch swing creaked, and he felt her come up behind him. He half turned and peered at her over his shoulder.
“I think we can make this work. I’m very much attracted to you, but I’m also leery of getting involved too quickly. I’ve been hurt in the past, and I want to take things as slowly as you do.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his tone low and throaty even to his own ears.
“I’m saying it would be an honor to accept the position as your housekeeper. But let’s put a time limit on it.”
“For how long?”
“Let’s say for the next three months, we keep our relationship strictly professional, if at the end of that time, if we’re both still interested, we consider exploring something more personal. Is it a deal?” Deannie thrust her small hand toward him, an intense expression on her face.
“Deal.” They shook on it.
She was murmuring all the right words, stoking the heat under his hopes and dreams. He had to be very careful because Brodie knew one thing for sure. Deannie had his heartstrings clutched firmly in a downward tug, and she was yanking with all her might.
8
Brodie had played right into her plans.
She knew he’d been aching to get close to her. She’d seen desire masked in his dark eyes, read the intense longing in his body language. After that earth-shattering kiss, when it seemed he might fold his hand in fear and retract the job offer, she’d quickly backed off, letting him think she wanted to take things as slowly as he did.
Too bad the man didn’t play poker; she could win back Willow Creek from him in one game. Deannie slid her eyes up and down Brodie’s lean, muscular body.
Now, if the man played strip poker that would be a whole other story.
The image of enacting strip poker with this ruggedly handsome man sent a heated flush rushing up her neck.
Deannie took her palm, the one that Brodie had just shaken, the one that still burned from his touch, and pressed it against her thigh. She wanted him to offer marriage, yes. Her sole intent was to win Willow Creek, whatever the cost. But she couldn’t lose her head. For no matter how different he seemed on the surface, Brodie was still Rafe Trueblood’s son, and the acorn didn’t fall far from the tree.
Trouble was, Brodie’s kiss had stirred her own desires. Desires she’d suppressed in favor of revenge. Desires she’d denied, had never investigated, for fear she would lose her drive to regain the ranch. Suddenly, she faced corralling intense longings, and she wasn’t sure how to go about it.
This is stupid, Deannie. If your plan will work, you can’t allow your feelings to get out of control. Remember, no matter how attractive he is, Brodie’s a Trueblood and no friend of yours.
Recalling what Brodie had said earlier about Gil Hollis not living up to his responsibilities and letting Willow Creek fall to ruin aroused Deannie’s anger and cooled her ardor.
Brodie had lied, telling her Rafe had purchased the ranch, when in reality his old man had stolen the property from her father.
High-beam headlights shone down the gravel road in front of the house as a vehicle rounded the corner.
“Looks like we got company,” Brodie said.
A pickup truck with a loud muffler chugged into the drive. Brodie’s face dissolved into a frown.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Kenny.” Brodie snorted.
A sudden knot of fear twisted Deannie’s stomach. How much had she revealed to Kenny during their card game? Would he tell Brodie she’d tried to get him to wager the ranch?
The truck door slammed, echoing loudly into the night. Kenny weaved a path over to the front porch. “Hey, li’l brother.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I come to see my kids.”
“They’re in bed.” Brodie folded his arms across his chest and widened his stance.
“Wake ’em up.”
“No.”
Kenny doubled up his fists. “Wake them up.”
“I will not fight you.”
“Chicken. The old man was right; you’re nothing but a coward.”
Standing behind him like she was, Deannie could almost feel Brodie’s anger. He clenched his hands and inhaled sharply. She could tell the old hurt that ran deep between the two brothers was nothing new. Deannie understood Brodie’s conflict with his older brother. Her own father had disappointed her in countless ways. Chief among them, losing Willow Creek Ranch.
“Go home,” Brodie said.
“I come to see my kids, dammit.”
“You can see them tomorrow.”
“Get out of my way.” Swinging his arms, Kenny started up the porch.
Brodie moved to block him. “It’s ten o’clock. They’ve been in bed for over an hour.”
Kenny looked surprised as if he did not understand time. “I’ll wake them up if you won’t.”
“You will not. You’re thinking of what you want, not what those babies need.”
“Like what?”
“You reek of whiskey. You remind me so much of Rafe it’s sickening.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, you little snot.” Kenny ducked his head and charged Brodie.
Deannie squealed and slapped a hand over her mouth. She’d witnessed more than her share of these kinds of altercations, and they only ended one way—somebody gets beat up. But it would be to her advantage if the two brothers stayed mad at each other. A fight would cement their differences of opinion and keep Kenny from blabbing to Brodie about that card game at the Lonesome Dove.
