No!
He wouldn’t allow that. No way. He’d do his stint in her megabucks world, pay his debt of tit for tat, then he was going home to the Single C.
Where he belonged.
Alone.
Chapter Eleven
Max slept again, a deep, dreamless sleep that was disturbed by an unfamiliar voice calling, “Mr. Carter,” and a firm grip shaking his shoulder.
He opened his eyes to find that night must have fallen, the only light in the bedroom from the glow of the lamp on the nightstand. He also found himself staring up at an enormous middle-aged woman in a white nurse’s uniform.
“Well, it’s about time you came around, Mr. Carter,” she said. “I’m Gertie, your nurse.”
“Huh?” Max frowned.
“Mr. Wentworth hired me to assist Ms. Wentworth with your care. We need to tend to nature’s call, don’t you think?”
“Huh?”
“Then we’ll see about getting you some tasty food. Ms. Wentworth has informed me that you haven’t eaten anything for hours.”
“Where is Josie?”
“She’s in her library, I believe. Now then, dear boy, let’s take care of necessary business, shall we?”
“Wait just a damn minute here,” Max said none too quietly. “I don’t need you to help me to... Go away and leave me alone.”
“Fine,” Gertie said, folding her arms across her ample bosom. “You just march yourself into the bathroom, and I’ll wait right here for you.”
“Oh, hell,” Max muttered, dropping his chin to his chest.
“Exactly.”
With the embarrassing-beyond-belief task having been attended to, Gertie produced a tray holding a hot, delicious offering of steak, mashed potatoes, vegetables and a big slice of cherry pie.
“Josie didn’t make this,” Max said, then shoveled in another forkful of potatoes. “It’s terrific.”
“Mr. Wentworth hired a cook for the duration of your recuperation here. He said he was aware of his granddaughter’s, shall we say, limited abilities in the kitchen.”
“Oh.” Max nodded. “Is Josie, um, going to come in here and say hello to me?”
“I believe she said she had several weeks’ worth of mail to sort through.”
“What kind of mood is she in?”
“I really couldn’t say, Mr. Carter,” Gertie said, settling her large frame on the chair next to the bed. “Eat.”
“Call me Max. It’s a tad late to stand on formalities, considering what you...what we... Just call me Max.”
“Fine. In the morning we’re going to have a nice sponge bath and a shave.”
“We are?” Max said, his eyebrows shooting up. “A sponge bath? No. Not a chance. There’s no way in hell you’re going to—”
“Yes, Max,” Gertie said, a no-nonsense tone to her voice. “I am,”
“Damn.”
“Exactly.”
The morning came and with it the promised sponge bath and shave, which Max did not suffer through quietly.
Gertie managed to change the sheets on the bed without causing him the least bit of physical discomfort, a process, Max had to admit, which was rather fascinating to watch. Gertie also produced a royal blue pajama top for him to wear.
After consuming an enormous breakfast, Max once again inquired about Josie’s whereabouts.
“I saw her briefly,” Gertie said. “She was heading back into her library.” She set a stack of magazines next to Max on the bed. “Mr. Wentworth had these delivered for you this morning.”
“I want to see Josie,” Max said, glowering at Gertie.
“We’re sounding like a pouty little boy. Why don’t we read our magazines?”
“Because we don’t want to,” he said. “Go tell Josie that I want to see her. Now.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Oh, good Lord.” Max shook his head. “This is a nightmare.”
“Well?”
“Please!” he yelled.
“That’s much better. I’ll inquire as to whether Ms. Wentworth is available.”
“You do that,” Max said as Gertie bustled from the room.
Five minutes went by. Then ten.
Max’s temper boiled hotter with every tick of the clock on the nightstand.
Fifteen minutes after Gertie had left the room, Josie appeared in the doorway, wearing winter white linen slacks and a mauve silk blouse.
“Where in hell have you been?” he roared.
“Goodbye, Max.” Josie turned to leave.
“Wait, wait,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. Okay? I’m sorry. But, cripes, Josie, you just disappeared and left me at the mercy of that amazon. Why did you do that?”
Josie walked forward slowly and sat down in the chair next to the bed.
“Because I’m tired of arguing with you, Max.” There was no hint of a smile on her face. “I realize that you’re in circumstances far from your liking, but every time we start a conversation, we end up screaming at each other. I’ve had enough of those upsetting scenes.”
Max sighed. “Yeah, so have I. I apologize for being... so grumpy.” He held out one hand toward her. “Hey, I missed you. You look beautiful, by the way. Those clothes you’re wearing are really nice. And that’s not a slam dunk about how much they must have cost. It’s a sincere compliment. You’re a gorgeous woman, Ms. Wentworth.”
Josie dipped her head slightly and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Carter.” She placed her hand in his where it rested palm up on the bed. “How are you feeling this morning?”
- “Not bad, all things considered.” He chuckled. “We had a bath and we had a shave and we tended to nature’s call a couple of times. How about that? Hey, do you like my spiffy jammies?”
Josie laughed. “They’re stunning.”
“Someone ran off with the bottom half of them, though. I’m buck naked under this sheet.”
“Do tell.”
“Yep.”
“Well, pajama bottoms wouldn’t fit over the cast on your leg, I guess. It’s more efficient this way.”
“For all kinds of things,” he said, grinning at her. “Very efficient.”
“Don’t start that again,” she said, laughing.
Max’s smile faded. “I suppose your grandfather gave orders to someone to buy these pajamas, along with the magazines. And to hire Gertie and the cook. Why, Josie? Why is he doing all this?”
“I told you, I don’t know. I still can’t recall what I said to him at the ranch. I sure have spent a lot of time in the past weeks trying to drag information out of my poor brain.”
Max nodded. “Yeah, you have, and it’s been rough on you. Maybe your grandfather will pop in here and explain his rationale.”
“I doubt it. He seems determined that I figure this out on my own. Besides, he and my brother, Michael, have gone to Oklahoma City for a gathering of oil men.”
“And left us unchaperoned?” Max said in mock horror. “What about my reputation? It’ll be in shreds.”
“Gertie is staying in the other guest room here, Mr. Carter.”
“Oh. Well, cripes.” Max paused. “Josie, I’d like to call Rusty sometime today to be certain that everything is under control at the Single C.”
“Certainly. I’ll plug a telephone into the jack in here. Feel free to call Rusty whenever you like. I know that the ranch is the most important thing in your life. You can’t rest and recuperate properly if you’re worried about what’s going on there.”
The ranch was the most important thing in his life? Max’s mind echoed. Well, yes, of course, it was, always would be. Then again, that fact was just a tad difficult to remember when Josie Wentworth was within kissing distance of where he lay half-naked in bed.
“Do you want to play checkers?” Josie said.
“You own a game of checkers?”
“I do now. Granddad had a stack of games delivered. We have checkers, chess, Uno—even Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders.”
>
“You’re kidding,” Max said, bursting into laughter.
“Be careful of your ribs, Max.”
“They’re coming along just fine. They were whacked worse than this when I was kicked by an ornery horse a few years ago.”
“Does your leg hurt? Or your head?”
“My head’s as good as new. My leg feels like a toothache. The cast sure is heavy, though.”
“Well, Jeff said that once the bones start to heal, he’ll change that cast for a lighter type—a walking cast.”
“And I’ll be able to go home.” He rapped the bulky cast with his knuckles.
“Yes,” Josie said quietly. “You’ll be able to go home.”
Max’s head snapped around to meet Josie’s gaze as he heard the soft, sad sound of her voice.
A cloud moved away from the sun, causing sunlight to pour through the window, falling over Josie like a golden waterfall. Max had a vivid image of that night weeks before when silvery moonlight had cascaded over her as she slept in the bed in the spare bedroom at the Single C.
Moonlight angel, he thought. That was what he’d called Josie in his mind that night. His moonlight angel. And they’d made love—exquisite love, like nothing he’d experienced before.
Now Josie was a sunshine angel, so lovely, so incredibly beautiful. And he wanted her even more than he had that night weeks ago.
“Max?” Josie said, her voice still hushed.
“What?” he said, pulling his mind back to attention.
“When you talk to Rusty, would you ask him to please have one of the workers my grandfather hired tend to the front yard of your house? Keep it free of weeds?”
“Yeah, sure.” Max paused. “You actually care about that scruffy patch of dirt?”
“It is not scruffy, nor is it dirt. There was grass interspersed with those weeds—green, sweet grass. I put in a lot of hours shaping up that yard and, yes, I do care about it very much.”
“Then I’ll tell Rusty to make certain it gets put at the top of the chores list. I wonder what your grandfather would think if he knew you had done manual labor while you were at the Single C.”
“He’d say that if it made me happy, then it’s fine with him. Granddad has a reputation for being an honest but very shrewd and tough businessman, Max. He was a hard taskmaster about grades when Jack, Michael and I were in school, too. But there’s also a softer side to him.” She laughed. “He spoils me rotten. I’m his little Princess. If it makes me happy, then, by golly, I should have it.”
Max smiled and nodded.
“I’ve been doing extensive volunteer work for several years,” Josie went on. “That’s not as lightweight as it may sound. I’ve developed organization, negotiation and accounting skills. I have a sharp eye for details, and I know how to delegate the right job to the best person. It’s been very rewarding, but...” Her voice trailed off.
“But?” Max prompted.
“In the last letter I had from Jack, he urged me to start thinking of a career where I could apply those finely tuned skills.”
“Sold,” Max said. “Do you know how much paperwork is involved in running a ranch? It’s grim, very grim. I hate it.”
“There we go,” Josie said, matching Max’s lighthearted tone of voice. “I’ll be the paperwork foreman of the Single C and you can punch the cows. How’s that?” She frowned. “Do you actually punch your poor cows?”
Max chuckled. “They’re cattle, not cows, and I wouldn’t slug one of them on a bet, because I would probably get trampled into the ground and break my other leg. I have no idea where the term ‘cowpuncher’ came from.”
“Interesting. I’ll look it up on my computer.”
“That’s what I should do, you know. Have all the ranch records on computer. It sure would save me a hassle at tax-preparation time. I have to account for every head of cattle I own. They have numbered tags clipped to their ears. The calves have to be branded, tagged, recorded... Man, I’m getting a headache just thinking about it. My records are sloppy at best.”
“Fear not,” Josie said, raising one finger in the air. “The new firm of Josie Wentworth, Ranch Manager—which is all of five minutes old—will make order out of your terrible chaos, sir.”
“Well, I’ll rest easier here in my white-carpeted prison now that I know that, ma’am.”
They smiled at each other, both thoroughly enjoying the comfortable ease of their conversation.
But then, echoes of what they’d said crept into their minds at the same time, causing smiles to fade and frowns to materialize, as they continued to gaze directly into each other’s eyes.
A career where I can apply my finely tuned skills.
Sold.
I’ll be the paperwork manager of the Single C, and you can punch the cows.
Order out of your terrible chaos, sir.
I’ll rest easier now that I know that, ma’am.
Josie tore her gaze from Max’s. “Well,” she said, getting to her feet. “I should let you get some rest.”
“Yeah, I’m tired, which is ridiculous, seeing as how I’m not doing anything except lying here like a slug.”
“Your body has suffered a tremendous trauma, Max. You definitely need your rest. I’ll see you later. Bye.”
Josie hurried from the room, not stopping until she reached the leather chair behind the desk in her library. Sitting down, she pressed trembling hands to her flushed cheeks.
Josie, get a grip, she told herself. She and Max had just been chatting, being silly, engaging in a nonsensical conversation to pass the time.
She wasn’t really going to embark on a career of ranch management. To be more precise, she wasn’t going to manage that portion of the running of the Single C. Working side by side. As Max’s partner. Doing her part, while he did his to make a success of the ranch. As Max’s lover.
As Max’s wife.
“Stop it,” she whispered.
She and Max had been fooling around. He’d no doubt already forgotten what their idle chitchat had been about.
Her damnable imagination was running roughshod over reality. She’d do well to remember the name of Max’s ranch.
The Single C.
Max stared at the doorway Josie had disappeared through, willing his thundering heart to quiet its wild tempo.
For a moment, while he’d been gazing into Josie’s eyes, it had all seemed possible, within his reach, his to have. Josie. His wife. His life’s partner, his work partner on the ranch, the mother of his children.
Just for a moment it had been real.
Was that what he really wanted? he wondered, feeling beads of sweat dot his brow. Deep within the very essence of himself was he lonely?
He swiped the sweat away, then dragged his hands down his face.
Was he lonely? his mind repeated. Why didn’t he know? Shouldn’t that be a question that was easily answered? Or was a part of him refusing to address it because he knew that Josie Wentworth was not his to have?
Was he falling in love with her? Was he already in love with her? Damn it, he didn’t know.
The next week, by unspoken agreement, neither Josie nor Max broached any serious subjects during their chats or while playing board games together.
A wheelchair had been delivered to Josie’s apartment, presumably ordered by Joseph. The chair had one straight panel where Max could rest his cast. Gertie covered his lower body with a blanket, preserving his modesty.
To his own amazement, Max had not been overwhelmed by the opulence of Josie’s apartment the first time she pushed his chair through the rooms for a tour.
He complimented her sincerely on her home, her taste in decorating, accepting what he saw as a reflection of who she was.
The view from the tall, gleaming windows was breathtaking, and Max lost track of time as he gazed out over the city. He blanked his mind and allowed a sense of peace and tranquillity to flow through him.
He couldn’t remember when he’d sat so still for so long. He w
as accustomed to working long hours on the ranch, tending to the never-ending chores.
But he’d vowed that he would adjust to Josie’s world as well as she had to his, and by damn, he was doing it.
The days in the penthouse fell into a comfortable routine, just as they had on the Single C. Max spoke on the telephone to Rusty each morning and was told daily that all was well at the ranch. The men Joseph Wentworth had hired were working fools, the old cowboy had cackled, and the spread had never looked so good.
Early in the morning on the tenth day since Max had taken up residency in her apartment, Josie entered her library and closed the door. She needed some quiet time, some private time, before she greeted Max with her usual smile and cheery hello.
Moving behind the desk, she sat down in the leather chair slowly and carefully, feeling suddenly fragile, as though she might shatter like delicate china.
She’d been living in a fantasy world again, just as she had at the Single C. This time the glorious ball was being held at her home. The prince had come to her. But there was a clock hovering in the shadows of the penthouse, just as there’d been for the Cinderella who’d resided at the ranch.
Tick...tick...tick.
The glorious days with Max were passing so quickly. Even though they stayed clear of serious matters, didn’t discuss again Josie’s silly proposal of becoming a ranch manager, didn’t delve one inch into Max’s protected past, they never ran out of things to talk about.
Each night when she kissed Max good night before going to her own room, desire flared instantly—hot, swirling, consuming. They would break the heated kiss reluctantly, and she would go quickly to her own bed—her big, lonely bed.
Tick...tick...tick.
Josie closed her eyes, gathering courage, forcing herself to snap out of the wondrous make-believe world with Max and stand firmly in reality.
She opened her eyes, looked at the calendar on the desk, then pressed one hand against her flat stomach.
The time had come.
She had to know.
The Rancher And The Amnesiac Bride Page 13
