"You steal that, boss?" Bull asked, his eyes twinkling as he nodded to the BMW.
"It belongs to her." Gabe didn't point and waited until Bull's pale blue gaze searched the ranch for a human life.
His eyes widened and he whistled softly. "Damn, son. You act like a hermit for years and bring a woman like that here?" Bull grinned, his gaze still lingering on Calli as she stooped to arrange wood in the hearth. Gabe explained why she was here.
"Aw, now who would want to hurt her? She's just a little thing. Hell, a good wind'd take her clean to the river. Damn, but she's a cute one, ain't she?" He glanced at Gabe.
"Yeah. Cute." Gabe wasn't looking at her. It might give too much away when he did and Bull was good for latching on to the tiniest thing and running with it. He decided to redirect his attention. "She's a chef."
Bull's eyes narrowed. "What'd you mean?"
"An-honest-to-God, card-carrying chef. Culinary school, degreed, specializes in pastries." Was that pride he heard in his own voice?
"No kidding?"
"Best of all, she's agreed to cook." Gabe waited for a reaction.
"Thank God," he moaned. "One less chore I don't need."
Bull eyed him. "How'd you manage that?"
"It was either that or let her slop hogs."
Bull frowned. "We ain't got no hogs."
"She knows. Now."
Bull chuckled softly, removing his hat and scraping his hair back over across his head, then repositioning the hat. Gabe ducked into the barn and grabbed his shirt off a nail, noticing that Bull tucked his own into the back of his trousers as he neared her.
She looked up, smiling, her gaze on the man beside Gabe as she moved around the hearth, her hand out. Gabe introduced them and Bull dragged the hat from his head, smoothed his hair again and ducked his head. His cheeks were red and Gabe didn't think he'd ever seen him this shy.
"I'm sure glad you're doing this." Bull waved to the outdoor kitchen.
"My pleasure, Mr. Pierce."
"The name's Harlan."
"No wonder you never told me," Gabe snickered, working his shirt on over damp skin.
Calli sent him a shut-up-before-I-kick-you look and smiled at Bull. "I take it these—" she gestured to the upper cabinets with locks "—are to keep out animals?"
"Yes, ma'am. There's a passel more just in there." He pointed to a side door, then moved around the hearth to show her the pantry just inside the house. "I know it ain't what yer likely used to—"
"I'm sure I can manage. Hungry?"
Bull beamed. Gabe arched a dark brow. Calli ignored him. If he was going to be bossy and impolite, she would rise above it. Besides, she'd yet to figure out what she'd done to deserve his rudeness. "If you'll give me about twenty, thirty minutes…" She let that hang and at least Bull was wise enough to understand that she didn't want company while she prepared. Gabe wasn't getting the hint.
She pulled out pots and pans, then removed the grate over the hearth and stacked in wood. She tossed in a lit match. It didn't catch. She was nervous as he stood there watching her light one long kitchen match after another.
"Kindling," he finally said, and she looked up. "Like a teepee." He shaped a model with his hands.
"Would have helped five matches ago," she muttered, and squatted to make a proper fire. She blew on the smoky flames, adding piece after piece of splintered wood. It caught nicely and she straightened, coaxing a good blaze. Charcoal would be easier and she would buy some when she went for supplies. After cleaning the grate, she replaced it and gave him her back as she pumped water into a pan. She set it on the fire to boil, then rooted in the cabinets. He was still there. She could feel his eyes on her.
"Go back to the barn, Angel."
His lips tightened. "Don't call me that."
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Then go back to the barn, Gabriel." She placed spices on the counter, set out a sack of rice, then straightened and grabbed a bowl, heading toward the small overgrown garden.
Gabe understood instantly. "There's snakes in there."
She stopped short, then marched over to a pile of kindling and picked up a long stick. "I'll scream before I keel over and die," she assured him with a tight glance, then she stirred the ground, hoping to evict anything that liked ankles for lunch. Calli felt perspiration bead between her breasts and her shoulder blades, more from him watching her than the heat. He did that a lot, stared without saying a word, and she was relieved when she heard his boots crunching against the dirt as he headed back to the barn.
Calli poked at the ground, deciding she would ask Bull to check for snakes next time. Squatting, she sifted through weeds for fresh herbs, reminding herself that the men were hungry and she'd no time to play Martha Stewart and do some weeding. She smiled to herself and wondered if they would eat what she had planned. Anything would be better than the refried beans and tortillas, all of which she had found in abundance. Of course, after smelling horse turds all day, he ought to be grateful for water.
Gabe pushed the wheelbarrow up the truck ramp and dumped the aromatic contents into the flatbed, then returned for more. There always seemed to be more work than time and he wondered at his decision to start this place. It didn't look much different than the day he'd bought it two years ago. He shoved and hauled, then swept before he broke open a hay bale, spearing and spreading. His clothes were soaked with sweat, but not a bit of work stopped him from watching her. She was at the table, the long knife moving with a speed that defied logic. Pots steamed and a fragrance that was close to flowers, scented the air. He didn't know where she found anything decent, but it sure smelled good. And he was starving by the time she rang the bell. Gabe forced himself not to bolt like a kid and took his time washing up, then following Bull, who was walking faster than he'd seen in months.
"It's cooler inside," she said, inclining her head toward the door, her hands full of plates. Bull leaped forward and opened the screen door and Gabe almost smiled. The old man ought to start drooling any second.
Following them, Gabe stopped short at the sight of his table, in his house. Didn't look like anything he remembered. She'd used an old runner for a tablecloth, the heavy Mexican-style stripes making the whole room bright. But it was the table setting that caught him off guard. The dishes and glassware had come with the place. Gabe had found the box, but never used them, both he and Bull making use of the disposable kind. Tall, slim glasses sparkled, flatware gleamed and a bouquet of wildflowers in a cracked pot made him smile inside. He felt like a creep for being rude to her. No one had ever done anything like this for him. Ever. And like the lemonade she'd brought when he was dying of thirst, Gabe couldn't remember the last time someone had thought of his comfort. He didn't want to like it. And he sure as hell didn't want to need it.
She set the last plate on the table and stepped back to inspect. "I know it might not be what you're used to, but I had to improvise."
She was right, Gabe thought, glancing over the abundance of food. This was nothing like he was used to. Nothing. Jeez. It looked like a restaurant.
"After lunch I'll take a trip to town for supplies." Her tone implied that she would go alone. Gabe had other ideas. And staring down at her, her body damp from the heat, her hair a little mussed, he had other ideas that had zilch to do with buying groceries.
She gestured and they sat, helping themselves.
Calli bit the inside of her mouth and waited for a reaction to the rice flavored with spices and seasoned with flowers and herbs, grilled beef strips and wild onions with peppercorns and cumin. Fresh basil and lemon helped make the canned peas palatable. A quick-brewed tea was iced and sweetened with crushed mint and she rose to pour them each a glass. She didn't have time for a dessert, a must in her book—and would make up for it later.
Calli ate sparingly, sipped tea and watched them. Bull had no trouble with devouring everything in front of him, yet Gabe was another matter. He tasted each dish, carefully.
"Calli?"
&nb
sp; "Hmm?" She'd been waiting for this. His chewing had slowed, his frown more curious than mad.
"What am I eating?" He pushed the pink blossoms to the edge of his plate.
"Flowers."
He spat it out in his napkin.
"Oh, come on, you were enjoying it just fine until I told you."
His look said he didn't care, he wasn't eating flowers.
"Trust me, they're edible." She looked pointedly at Bull, who was already scraping the remains of his food to the edge of the plate for the final bite. "And you eat herbs, don't you?" No response. "Half of the herbs are flowers." His expression was impassive. "Think I'm trying to poison you?"
Bull looked up, the fork halfway to his mouth. He stared at Calli, then Gabe, then must have decided she was trustworthy, or that he'd come this far, and shoved the food into his mouth. Calli's smile was smug as she propped her arms on the table, her chin on her fists and looked directly at Gabe.
And he looked back. He couldn't get enough of those blue eyes, that energetic smile. She was so pretty and bubbly and he wanted some of that. But knew he couldn't, so he savored just looking at her. He scooped up a spoonful of flowers and ate them. Damn, if she wasn't right.
Then she smiled.
And Gabe thought the sky had opened up. Lord, this was going to be pure hell living with her. "You gonna eat that?" Gabe's glance slid to Bull, who was eyeing Gabe's unfinished lunch.
Gabe hid a smile. "I'd planned on it." Bull's expression wilted.
"There's plenty." She moved the bowls and platters in front of him. He eyed the helpings, then her.
"Go on, Bull, I've finished." She sighed. "Wish I had dessert, though."
They both looked disappointed.
"I promise tomorrow it will be something special."
It was another ten minutes of silence while the men ate, cleaning the platters.
"Heck, Miss Calli," Bull said, wiping a napkin across his mouth. "That there was the best. The best." Bull sat back in his chair and drained the rest of his iced tea.
She nodded and smiled, then her gaze shifted to Gabe's.
She didn't need to hear his reaction.
She knew it. Her heart leaped.
Then she told herself she shouldn't be so thrilled that she'd passed muster.
Gabe swallowed, his gaze moving intensely over her. "Proved you're not all pastries with little swords in them, didn't you?"
It sounded like a challenge, even to his own ears, yet she beamed. His heart skated to his throat at the sight of it.
"You doubted, admit it."
"You're hired," he said as if it killed him.
Her eyes flashed wide. "Hired? Does that mean you're going to actually pay me?"
He frowned. "Room and board, sure."
A purely feminine smile graced her face, mischievous and downright seductive. Bull glanced between the two, then stood, left the table, then the house, whistling.
The screen door slammed behind him. Then silence.
"That's all?"
She had no idea what that look was asking or even implying, he thought. Why would someone as beautiful and wealthy enough to do what she wanted, be with whomever she desired, want anything to do with him? He was nothing. And in his wildest dreams, he wouldn't be good enough or clean enough for a woman like Calli Thornton.
And if she knew how he'd lived, what he'd done to reach thirty, she would be running for that expensive car and peeling rubber for a mile.
Her nightmares were his reality.
She might be safe from Murdock here, but she wasn't safe from him. He shoved back the chair and stood. "You made the rules and a deal's a deal." He headed for the door.
"Gabriel?" He paused on the threshold, his back to her. It shouldn't feel so good to hear her call his name, he thought, and the vulnerability made him angry. "Gabe?"
He snapped a look back over his shoulder.
"I was teasing."
Teasing? Didn't she realize what just the thought of touching her did to him? "Don't," he warned, trying to make her understand who he really was. "Because I could take your body on that table and walk away, Calli. Easy." His tone and words intentional, shoving the memory of the last night in her face.
Her features tightened. "Is implying that you've done that, on this table, supposed to scare me?"
Her defiant tone said she wouldn't let it go and Gabe crossed to her, dragging her from the chair and up against him. He bent her back till their bodies meshed. The hot contact drove desire up his spine. He grew instantly hard. And that he couldn't have her, couldn't lose himself in her sweet innocence, made him ache. And angrier.
"Don't play games with me, Calli. Ever. I've taken women in the back seats of cars, on the floor, the desert and in broad daylight for the world to see. So don't think for a second what you've got—" his icy gaze raked her "—is something I haven't had."
Abruptly, he released her and left the house, his stride long and pounding. And if he thought he'd left her shaken and hurt, he was wrong.
He knew it the instant the onion hit him in the back of the head.
* * *
Five
« ^ »
Gabe stopped, the onion bouncing to the ground and rolling a few inches beyond his feet. He stared at it for a second, then cocked a look back over his shoulder, rubbing his neck.
Calli stared back, feeling very unattractive right now. Don't think for a second what you've got is something I haven't had. "I don't need to know what a slut you were, Gabriel."
His brows shot up and he faced her, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, hips slanted. "Is that a way for a good Catholic girl to talk?" He was strangely pleased that she'd face up to him like this.
"You wouldn't know a good girl," she said, tossing another onion like a baseball, "if she were right in front of you."
He moved slowly toward her, his gaze traveling hotly over her body like a predator to his prey. And Calli knew it was absolute rebellion that kept her rooted to the floor, her gaze locked with his. She felt more for this man than any other, ever, and if he could ignore the sexual attraction, then so could she.
He stopped inches from her, viewing her from his height, and she craned her neck to look up at him. "Yes. I do."
It was her turn to smirk. "Don't assume you know anything about me, Gabriel, and I'll do the same for you. And if you had any respect for me, beyond my culinary talents, you wouldn't have talked to me that way."
"I do respect you."
The sincerity of his tone startled her. She frowned. Was he throwing his past in her face to prove he was too jaded for even pleasant conversation with a woman raised by nuns? He couldn't know his past would never matter to her. No one's did or she would never have hired Rodrigez for Excalibur. Oh, there was more to Gabriel Griffin than the dangerous-to-body-and-soul image he projected, all right. And he didn't want anyone to know it. Or see beyond it.
"If that's true, then you owe me an apology."
"For the truth?" He couldn't; it was who he was. Nothing.
"No." She shoved him back. "For the way you said it."
She didn't wait for the words and turned into the house, tossing the onion once before dropping it into a bowl. She collected up dishes, aware he was still there, staring. He couldn't get within ten feet of her without her body calling out like a whistle siren. She fought the urge to turn to look at him.
Gabe stared at her back and wanted to go to her, slide his arms around her and say the words she wanted to hear. But they weren't in him to say. It bothered him that she cared, that she needed to hear him apologize. He didn't want the responsibility of her heart.
This was temporary anyway, he reminded himself. And he was getting too caught up in her, as if there would be a tomorrow. And even if he let go of everything holding him back and indulged in her, he would destroy her, like he'd done everything gentle in his life. She didn't want to know him. Not really. She was just curious. But a part of him dared to reveal the ugliness, wanted her to
know the things he'd done to survive. Then she'll run, a voice whispered. But the worst of it, beyond the sheer ungodly temptation of Calli, was the niggling doubt that even after she knew, she would stay.
Calli sighed deflatedly when she heard him walk away. She finished collecting up the dishes into an old basket she'd found, seeing as there was nothing left of the meal to discard, then carried them outside to the sink. She pumped water into a clean pan, setting it on the grill to heat, then went back to the sink to wash dishes. Beneath the shade of the porch, she scrubbed, determined to keep to herself. Not that that would be much fun. She cast a look over her shoulder, the sponge clutched in her hand. He was in the paddock, walking a pregnant horse around the ring. Damn. That line in the sand was growing wider, she thought, tempting her to risk her heart and leap the chasm.
An hour later Gabe crossed the yard to the kitchen, pumped water into a glass and tipped it to his lips. He stopped mid-drink, his gaze narrowing. She was in the garden, pulling weeds, but it just wasn't that that grabbed his full attention, but her position, on her knees, her sweet behind in the air as she leaned out to pluck and dig. The back of her tank top was soaked dark with sweat, her legs sparkled with it. He finished the drink, set the glass aside and strode toward her. He knew he shouldn't, should go back to work. But like an addict, he needed a fix. Of her. As he neared, he noticed she wore a baseball cap and her knees were braced on a couple of dish towels. She was collecting the weeds into a bucket. She didn't acknowledge him, but he knew she'd heard him. And it irritated him.
Until he heard a faint tinny sound and realized she was listening to music through headphones. Her bottom bounced, her shoulders shifting, and she sang out, plucking weeds in time to the music. His lips curved and he simply watched her. He'd never seen anyone have so much fun working in this unbearable heat. And in that instant, he wanted her to notice him. Yet when she stood, twisting to work a kink out of her back, then pick up a hoe, he decided it could wait. She danced between the neat rows of herbs and flowers, digging the hoe in time to whatever music that was blaring in her head. What kind was it? His curiosity aroused, Gabe realized he wanted to know more about her than he needed to get the job done.
THE UNLIKELY BODYGUARD Page 7
