Apparently he read her doubts and misinterpreted them. Frowning, he said, “And here I thought we’d been making progress. I was sure you trusted me to be here when you got back.”
“I don’t trust you a bit, but I’m going anyway,” she said, glad that he couldn’t read her so easily. “And don’t get your hopes up, because I will be back and I haven’t forgotten about the letter, either.”
He laughed at that, the first unrestrained emotion she’d seen. “I never doubted that for a minute, sweetheart.”
She hesitated at the door, then teased, “Don’t change the locks.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he countered with a wink.
If he meant the devilish wink to be a warning of some sort, it failed. Marilou found the challenge of it flat-out irresistible.
Chapter Five
Cal stayed clear of the house until nearly supper time. It was one of the hardest struggles of his life. Oh, he had plenty to do to keep occupied, but all of his thoughts seemed centered on Marilou Stockton. He couldn’t imagine a more troubling turn of events. He’d made it a practice not to let any woman get too close. He hadn’t lived with a woman for the past ten years, not since he’d realized and accepted that he was the kind of man who simply couldn’t settle down and make the kind of commitment any decent woman deserved.
Now he had gone and broken his own rule. He’d invited a woman who was dead set on reforming him to stick around and give it her best shot. Even if he hadn’t been convinced of his own lunacy, Chaney would have been more than happy to point it out. His scowling disapproval spoke volumes. As a result of that silent condemnation, Cal flatly refused to be caught looking to see if Marilou had returned, although Chaney was giving him regular reports.
Squinting toward the horizon at midafternoon, Chaney announced obliquely, “Not yet.” Obviously he figured that Cal would know perfectly well what he meant.
“Not yet,” he said again an hour later and again the hour after that, until Cal felt like strangling him. All of the men were giving him a wide berth as his temper grew shorter with each passing minute.
What if she didn’t come back? The prospect nagged at him worse than her presence had. God knew, he couldn’t blame her for running scared. There was a contradictory blend of recklessness and caution in her that fascinated him. Maybe the caution had won out. After all, he’d warned her about his lifestyle in one breath, then with the next he’d taunted her to share it. Even though the invitation to stay had been couched as a job offer, only a totally naive woman would believe that the two of them could keep it that way for long. The air had crackled with sexual tension from the minute they’d laid eyes on each other. He realized with a sudden guilty pang that Marilou might just be too innocent, too hell-bent on proving something to herself to recognize all the snapping and sparring for what it was, a prelude to passion of a different sort entirely. Well, heaven help the two of them if she’d misunderstood!
Cal prided himself on being an analytical man. Some even described him as coolly calculating. He never ever let his emotions get in the way of a business decision. That made this impulsive move all the more disconcerting. There was an emotional tug here that was not only totally out of character, but went against every commonsense instinct he possessed.
Maybe it was her long red hair pulled back in that braid that his fingers itched to undo.
Maybe it was her green eyes, which met his with such a total lack of guile.
More likely—and most dangerous—it was the depth of caring that radiated from her. That compassion had made her travel several hundred miles to find a long-lost grandson for a woman she didn’t even know. The part of him that was accustomed to burying family ties wanted to know what sort of woman was driven to do something like that. He wanted that warmth and generosity of spirit directed at him, even as he distrusted it.
It was nearly dusk when he finally spotted the dust flying up on the long driveway to the house. He caught himself grinning as he watched. She drove at a damn-the-consequences speed with which she apparently did everything else regarding him. Relief, so profound it astonished him, flooded through him. Perversely it kept him hiding out down in the stables until long after Chaney had gone to his quarters to clean up for supper.
If Cal had hoped that the defiant gesture would prove his indifference, he was very much mistaken. He had only to walk into the kitchen and see her there to feel the unfamiliar swell of emotion that had plagued him throughout the day.
Marilou was dressed in a flowered sundress that showed off shoulders lightly dusted with freckles and emphasized a tiny waist. He had to fight an almost irresistible urge to circle that waist with his hands and kiss every one of those faint marks left by the sun. As he passed by, he caught the scent of roses, sweet and all too alluring. Strappy little sandals that had no business on a farm showed off her ankles. She had fine ankles, he observed with a catch in his heartbeat. When he saw Chaney regarding them appreciatively, he had to restrain the primitive, proprietary impulse to slug him.
Keeping his purely masculine response under control might have been more difficult if he hadn’t been drawn toward the pots simmering on the stove. Chili, thick with meat and beans and spices bubbled in one. In another, ears of sweet corn tumbled in the boiling water. In the last, greens simmered with a ham hock. As he drew in a deep, satisfying breath, he realized that it had been twenty years since he’d had a real home-cooked meal. Hell, maybe longer. His mother hadn’t been much of a cook. She’d grown up in a house filled with servants. His daddy’s income, once the oil business crashed, hadn’t even been enough to support a cleaning woman once a week. After that his mother tended to serve complaints instead of decent meals. The fancy restaurants that had eventually taken the place of frozen dinners as his own career took off were more likely to serve beef Wellington than chili.
“Smells good,” he said, recalling the last time he’d eaten real Texas chili. It had been in a diner near the bus station an hour before he’d left home for good. Joshua had been sitting on the stool next to him, talking a mile a minute, coming up with every reason he could think of to keep Cal from running. Not a one of those reasons had been worth a tinker’s damn once he’d made up his mind to go. He wondered what Joshua would have to say when he heard about his new, temporary housekeeper.
Marilou turned at the sound of his voice and greeted him with a radiant, unhesitating smile that almost took his breath away. Any sane man would fly home from work for a welcome like that.
“I hope you like chili,” she said, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. “I made enough for an army. This kitchen looks as if it were built for the entire crew. I wasn’t sure if you’d want some for the other men.”
“Not tonight. They’re used to going out on their own or cooking out in the bunkhouse. If it looks like you’re going to stick around, we’ll see if they want to change that.”
“They might want to sample my cooking before they make up their minds.”
“If that corn bread that’s baking tastes half as good as it smells, I can almost guarantee they’ll want to join us,” he said.
“Amen to that,” Chaney agreed, walking in just then and eyeing the big golden squares she was cutting and putting into a basket lined with a bright red-and-white checked napkin. He was reaching for a piece before she could get the corn bread on the table.
“I think you may have found a way to his heart, after all,” Cal observed wryly as he sat at the big round table that she’d set with a red-checked cloth and the sturdy white everyday dishes. It occurred to him again that she had an instinct for making things homey instead of fancy. She’d left the previous owner’s fine English bone china and expensive Irish crystal in the cupboard where they belonged.
Marilou grinned back at him. “Cooking is a tried and true method. My mother swears she got my father to marry her by baking him mouth-watering lemon meringue pies.”
Chaney coughed and shot a warning glance at Cal. “Did you hear that, boss? I
guess she’s put you on notice. There’s a lot to be said for a woman who don’t play games.”
Marilou blushed prettily at the taunt, but met Chaney’s gaze evenly. “Who says it’s not you I’m after, you handsome devil?”
Chaney’s eyes went wide as half-dollars, and he gobbled down the rest of his meal as if he had to get to a fire. Cal and Marilou both burst into laughter as he muttered his excuses and scrambled away from the table, leaving them to their coconut cake and coffee.
Cal tilted his chair back and watched Marilou grow increasingly nervous. She fussed with her napkin and avoided his gaze as if she’d just realized the new intimacy of their relationship.
“Settle down, girl,” he said gently. “I’m not out to ravish you.” Yet, he amended silently. He’d never taken a skittish woman yet, and the past few months on the farm had taught him a lot about patience and calming nerves. Unfortunately it had also been a time of celibacy, and a woman as pretty as Marilou could make a man in that condition a little crazy.
“Maybe that’s what’s bothering me,” she said, clearly emboldened by his disclaimer.
His whole body tensed at the unexpected taunt. That flash of daring in her nature was far more dangerous than she realized. “Careful, Marilou. I could change my mind real easy.”
She smiled knowingly. “I’m not worried.”
“You ought to be, sweetheart. I’m no saint.”
“Oh, I know that,” she said breezily. “But I also know you’re not about to take a chance on involvement, not with a woman who’s already underfoot.”
“Meaning?”
“That your type of woman probably has one foot on a plane before you dare to kiss her.”
The tart observation was so close to the mark, it astounded him. It also worried him a little that she could read him so well, while he couldn’t figure her out a bit. She was like a diamond, showing off new facets depending on which way it faced the light. That made her a challenge, and he knew himself well enough to recognize that made her the most dangerous woman he’d met in a long time. Still, instead of keeping his distance, he asked, “What about you? What’s kept you single all this time?”
“I’m only twenty-five.”
“I’m still surprised some man hasn’t snapped you up.”
“I’m not running, if that’s what you mean. I suppose, if anything, I’ve just been waiting for the right man to come along.”
“What would he be like?”
“Intelligent, adventurous, maybe even a little wild,” she said with a grin that reminded him of a teenager sharing secret confidences. “Know anyone who fits those qualifications?”
“What does a woman who bakes corn bread and coconut cake want with a man who’s wild?”
“You know what they say, opposites attract.”
“Maybe so, but do they last?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I haven’t met a man like that yet, much less tried to make the relationship work.”
“You could always practice with me,” he offered.
He watched as she swallowed hard, then worked to hide her sudden nervousness. “I’m not so sure you’re as wild and daring as you’d like me to believe. In fact, I think you might be surprised at just how domesticated you could become if you gave yourself half a chance.”
He found himself grinning. “So, based on your analysis, we’re not opposites at all?”
“Not deep down.”
“Then, according to the theory, there should be no attraction.”
“That’s right,” she said with that devilish gleam reappearing in her eyes.
That glint, like moonlight on emeralds, was yet another challenge he couldn’t refuse. He reached out, hooked his hand around a rung of the ladder-back chair and dragged her to him. Before she could recover from the sudden movement, his lips were on hers, catching her soft gasp of surprise. His fingers curved around her bare shoulders, savoring the smooth texture that was like silk against the sandpaper roughness of his calluses. Her hands were pressed against his chest. After one startled push, a faint flutter of protest, they gentled against him. Her tongue, shy and hesitant, touched his lips, then retreated, as if she were afraid to dare more. It was the touch of an angel with the impact of Satan.
No more experienced kiss had ever awakened such wonder, such desperate wanting in him. No sweet touch of innocence had ever stirred such terror. With an anguished moan, he tore himself away and stood up. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her, fearing what he’d see. If there were tears of dismay in her eyes, if he’d frightened her, he’d never forgive himself.
“Go on up to bed,” he said gruffly.
“The dishes…”
“Leave ’em. It won’t be the first time they sat here overnight.”
“You’re paying me to do them,” she insisted, stacking them by the sink and avoiding his gaze. “And I have no intention of spending an extra hour in the morning scrubbing off dried food.”
“I’ll put them in the damned dishwasher. Now go on, before I do something we’ll both regret.”
She sighed then and walked slowly to the door. Only when her back was to him did he risk really looking at her. Her spine was straight and proud. There was no way he could tell how deeply he’d hurt her, until she turned and looked back. To his surprise, there was no condemnation in her eyes, only something that looked faintly like sorrow.
“I think maybe you already have,” she told him softly. Then she was gone, leaving the scent of roses trailing behind her and a heavy ache in his heart.
For a man who’d lived his whole life without regrets, Cal realized he’d just filled a whole day with a passel of them.
* * *
Cal’s kiss had had more force than a tornado sweeping through Georgia. It took three days for Marilou to feel comfortable looking him in the eye again, though she did so with determined regularity. She refused to let him see that he’d shaken her. It was small comfort that he didn’t seem to be much easier around her. When he could, he avoided her and left it to Chaney to tell her what time to have meals on the table, where to go for supplies and to write out the checks for household needs.
Marilou was a patient woman, but she was beginning to worry that she was wasting precious time. By now Cal’s grandmother could be much worse, and Marilou hadn’t even succeeded in getting him to look at the letter. She’d planned on mentioning it at dinner the night before, but he hadn’t come in. Chaney had offered no explanations. He’d just silently eaten his own meal, thanked her in his gruff manner and gone out, leaving Marilou alone with her thoughts and a whole lot of confusing emotions.
It seemed to her that she had two choices. She could wait Cal out, hoping that sooner or later he’d get past this stubbornness on his own. Or she could push him and risk having him toss her and the letter all the way back to Georgia. She finally opted for waiting, at least for a few more days. And since this was supposed to be an adventure, she decided she might as well make the most of it. That night at dinner she asked Chaney if he thought Cal would mind if she did some work in the garden.
“It’s a disgrace,” she said. “You should see the way the weeds have taken over. You’d have plenty of fresh vegetables if somebody just put in a little effort. I saw some tomatoes and some zucchini. Possibly some green beans. What do you think?”
“Ain’t up to me.”
“Well, the ground’s wasted the way it is. I think I’ll just go ahead.”
The next day she picked up a half dozen tomato plants, along with seedlings for several other vegetables. She spent an extra half hour getting directions on exactly how to prepare the ground and plant them. She could hardly wait to get started.
As soon as she’d put away the groceries, she put on a pair of shorts and a halter top, then went to the barn for a shovel, a rake and a hoe. Zeke, Roddy and Chaney took one hard look at her and simply stared until she flushed with embarrassment.
“I’ll get what you need,” Cal growled as he returned t
o the barn leading Devil’s Magic. He handed the horse over to Chaney and shot a stern glance that had Zeke and Roddy scurrying back to work. “If you’re going to parade around down here, put some damned clothes on.”
She looked down at the shorts and knit top. “For heaven’s sakes, people wear less than this at the beach.”
“If you were at the beach, you’d fit right in. Around here the only females wearing fewer clothes are the fillies and, believe me, they’re not much competition.”
She supposed he had a point, though she doubted any of the men in that barn were likely to be stirred to passion by one look at her in this outfit. “Sorry,” she apologized anyway. “I didn’t think.”
His eyes met hers. She noticed he was careful to keep his glance from dropping below her chin. “Next time you will,” he said, handing her the gardening equipment. “Don’t stay out in that sun too long. It’s overcast today. It’ll fool you.”
She nodded as he vanished. While she worked in the garden she was aware that Cal paused to stare at her every time he returned to the barn, but he never waved or acknowledged her presence in any way. In fact, for all the attention he paid to her, she might have been invisible.
It took her two days to get the garden into shape. The work was far harder than she’d anticipated, but when she was done, when the ground had been turned and watered and the plants were in nice, even rows, she felt a rare sense of accomplishment. There had been something soothing about the task. When it was over, though, she immediately began looking around for something new to try. The Thoroughbreds were the obvious choice.
The next morning, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and tennis shoes, she presented herself to Chaney. “I want to learn about horses,” she announced.
He shoved his hat back on his head and regarded her skeptically. “There’s books in the house.”
“The horses are here. I figure I’ll learn a lot more by doing than I will by reading, don’t you?”
“You know anything at all?”
“Nope.”
My Dearest Cal Page 6
