His Cinderella Housekeeper 3-in-1

by Various

  Somehow even with lust racing through his veins and making him crazy with uncontrollable need, he pivoted and dashed out to the barn to check on his new bulls. And he stayed there until all the lights in the house went out and he knew she was in bed. Then he came inside and called the sheriff. Wainwright and Yardley were still clueless about the dead livestock and the gunrunning activity in the area.

  Celeste had the seat of Phillip’s big blue pickup jammed as far forward as possible. In spite of her ongoing sulk or feud or whatever you called it with Phillip, she was radiant with excitement this morning as she started the ignition. No more cows had died mysteriously, so her fears regarding the cows had lessened.

  “Lonesome Lover” was the best song she’d taped so far. She was proud of it and anxious to get it in the mail. She was sure that this time Mr. Furman would write back.

  What did Mr. Greg Furman do with her tapes anyway? Did he listen to them? Or did some secretary simply throw them in the trash? She couldn’t bear that last thought.

  Phillip and Juan were in the holding pens making sure all their equipment was ready for the big branding next week. Hopefully, she’d make it to town and back before either of them even noticed. But as she backed out of the garage, Phillip stalked up the drive and caught her.

  His Stetson was off, and he was wiping his mud-caked brow on his soft, blue chambray shirt.

  When he looked up, his silver eyes drilled her.

  His mouth tightened. Then he waved her over. Oh, dear. Her stomach clenched. Not that bossy look. When he frowned, a prickle of alarm skidded up her spine. After barely speaking for days, he suddenly wanted to talk to her! Not good. Quickly she stuffed the incriminating envelope with her new tape in it underneath her seat.

  “Hi,” she said, rolling down her window as she drove closer to him. “Do you need something from town?”

  “Why the hell are you going to town—again?” He leaned on her door, deliberating brushing her hand with his arm.

  She jerked her hand inside. “Grocery store.”

  “But you went this morning.”

  “Oh… I—I…er, I forgot an ingredient…er, cream.”

  “Cream?” His gorgeous mouth smiled.

  Idiot! Why did you say cream? You never cook with cream!

  “My recipe needs cream,” she fibbed.

  His gaze slid from her scarlet face to the slim silver chain that disappeared between her breasts. “Can I come, too?”

  “Aren’t you busy getting ready to brand—”

  “Juan knows what he’s doing.”

  No! No! No! You can’t come! Not today!

  “Mind if I drive?” he whispered, opening the door.

  The envelope was under the driver’s side!

  “Sure,” she said, her voice casual as she scooted across the seat. “Go ahead. But I’d think you had better things to do.”

  He climbed inside, and she stared woodenly out the window. As usual the thick silence in the cab soon bristled with her doubts and his edgy hostility. She turned on the radio, the better to ignore him. The first song was about a love-’em-and-leave-’em gal. He opened his window.

  When he stomped on the accelerator, she leaned over and studied the speedometer. When he slowed down, she stared ahead, her eyes dazed, unfocused.

  Were they going to stay mad at each other forever?

  “I got an interesting phone call last night when you were at the store.” His lazy drawl held an edge of menace that made her nervy with alarm.

  “The sheriff? About those old cows?”

  “No. Somebody else.” He eyed her.

  “Oh, really?” she murmured. “Anybody I know?”

  “Yeah. Johnny Silver.”

  “I hope you hung up on him!”

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  She swallowed.

  He gripped the wheel. She started to say something and then broke off, staring unseeingly ahead. Her chest felt tight.

  For a few minutes the only sound in the cab was the plaintive tune about a woman loving the wrong man.

  Phillip turned the volume down. “I asked him why you left Vegas in such a hurry.”

  She gasped and then swallowed. “You had no right—”

  “I love you, Celeste.” He said it so angrily, the words scared her. “Don’t worry. He didn’t tell me. The bastard hung up on me.”

  She sighed in relief.

  “So, why won’t you tell me why you left? Why you came here?”

  “Here we go again. I was in trouble, okay? I did the smart thing and left.”

  He shot her a contemptuous look. “Can you be more specific?”

  “It’s all over now.”

  “All over? So why did the bastard call you?”

  “So why does it matter so much to you?”

  “Maybe because you matter to me.” He paused. “Your friend, or whatever he is, sounded scared. I want to know why. Are you in danger?”

  “Why don’t you worry about your cows and gunrunners?”

  “Are you in danger?”

  “No,” she lied. “I fired him, okay? And he’s the last thing from a friend. I was young and trusting and naive in a word—stupid. He’s a snake and a con artist and an out-of-control gambler. He used me. He was no good.”

  “I’m glad you figured that one out.”

  “Can we talk about something besides that human rat who can’t resist a pair of hot dice?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like those dead cows and what happened in Mezcaya?”

  “Maybe I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to worry you, either,” she said softly.

  “That’s different. I don’t need protecting.”

  “Always, always Mr. Big, Tough Hero? Get real, Phillip. Mercado said you nearly died in Mezcaya. You’re human, you know. Bullets don’t bounce off you any more than they bounced off those two dead cows of yours.” She paused. “I know what it’s like to lose someone—”

  “And you think I don’t—” Phillip snapped. He sucked in a savage breath. “Your friend—I mean, the human rat sounded scared. Real scared.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s his problem.”

  Phillip rolled up his window and turned off the radio. “Is it?”

  She bit her lip and swallowed. “I’m not going to discuss this…until I’m ready.”

  “When will that be?”

  “I don’t know, okay?”

  He sighed. “Okay.”

  They drove in silence for a while. Her muscles felt so tense, she ached all over.

  It was one of those perfect summer mornings in south Texas. The big sky was blue and so bright she couldn’t look at it without blinking, but the heat made everything hazy around the edges, especially at the horizon. A buck and a doe sprang across the road. The southeasterly breezes were playing in the oak and mesquite. Pastures stretched endlessly.

  It was such wide-open country that it made their quarrel seem small and insignificant.

  Gradually, she began to relax.

  At exactly the same moment they turned, their eyes locking on each other’s faces.

  “I—I…”

  They both spoke in unison.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  Before she thought, she smiled at him. To her surprise, his expression softened. When his gaze fell to her lips, her heartbeat came to a shattering halt.

  “I’ve been pretty awful to you this past week,” he said, leaning closer.

  “Watch the road,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry, Celeste.”

  “An apology?” Another awkward stillness descended upon both of them. “I—I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

  When his eyes seared her face, she felt an even greater connection.

  “Neither the hell can I. Do you have any idea what surrendering costs me?”

  She sighed deeply. She knew that tone. A jolt of sheer excitement lit every nerve in
her body.

  Her heart drummed in her ears.

  He concentrated on the road again.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she finally admitted in a rush of elation.

  “I’ve gotta pull over, woman,” he growled.

  He swerved to a standstill under the deep dark shade of a spreading live oak. He took his time shutting off the engine. As his brown hand fiddled with the ignition, Celeste thought she’d never been so aware of a man.

  “You found the only shady place for miles,” she said.

  “I want to drive home and strip you naked.”

  A foolish tingle shivered down her spine. The last of her self-control dissolved. “I’ve got an even sexier idea—”

  “If it’s better than mine, I can’t wait to hear it.”

  She darted a quick, shy glance at him. When she whispered it in his ear, he laughed. In that instant their quarrel was over. Even before the whorls of dust settled on the cacti and huisache, even before he unfastened her seat belt and pulled her into his lap, it was as if she had slipped out of her skin and into his and they were already one.

  His gaze both tender and fierce, he stared at her face silently until everything inside her went still. She ran a fingertip down the length of his aquiline nose. Then she pushed a lock of dark hair from his dirty brow. All she could hear was his breath coming quick and rasping and her own heart beating like a savage tattoo.

  “You shouldn’t work so hard,” she whispered.

  When she moved, his eyes fell to her nipples that thrust against her T-shirt.

  A little clock on the dash ticked. The sunlight shone on his carved cheek and black lashes. He was beautiful, hard, masculine and dangerously virile. And he was hers, all hers.

  No…

  “You have sissy eyelashes,” she whispered as he grinned and brushed his calloused fingers through her hair. “You’re not the first girl to say that, so don’t get yourself all conceited.”

  “Trying to make me jealous?”

  He chuckled. “I’ll make it up to you later.” Then he batted his long lashes at her.

  A jolt of desire swept through her. Catching her breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. “Oh, Phillip—”

  The week of doing without made it impossible for a girl with her raging hormones to play hard to get. Even before he kissed her, even before he drove home and stripped her, she could already smell and taste the sex that was to come. She couldn’t wait.

  He tongued her lower lip and every nerve ending in her body caught fire. She melted into him.

  He laughed. He knew her that well. He knew her every thought and base desire and reveled in them.

  “No goody-goody church girl for me,” he whispered eagerly, his eyes darkening.

  A slow flush heated her cheeks, and he grinned.

  “Oh, dear, you’re so gorgeous,” she said too breathlessly.

  “So are you.”

  “What do you say we do something about these warm feelings—”

  She hugged him. He felt so good, so warm and hard and muscular. And she felt so safe and adored.

  A great tenderness welled in her heart as her soul rushed to his. Oh, dear. Not even her music was this essential. It was scary to surrender who she was to anybody, even to Phillip, even in the name of love.

  “Do you want to go back to the house or do you want to do it here?” she whispered. “I can’t wait much longer.”

  “A church girl wouldn’t say that unless all the lights were out.”

  She cleared her throat and began to unbutton his shirt.

  “I’ll start the truck,” he rasped thickly when she got to the third button.

  “Scared you, didn’t I?” she giggled. “You thought I’d really do it out here on the highway, didn’t you?”

  He laughed. “Wouldn’t you?”

  It was her turn to laugh. No sooner were they home and inside the front door, than he locked it and started to strip her. When they were both naked, she flung herself into his arms, jumped up, and circled his waist with her legs. He caught her and strutted around the house like a triumphant warrior striding home with his booty.

  They never made it to the bedroom. In the hall he sank with her to the floor and kissed her, every part of her, his tongue filling her mouth and then her navel and other moist, intimate places, too, while his hands roamed. She lay still and let him do as he pleased.

  When he was done he buried himself to the hilt. Then his huge, muscular body was rising and falling, carrying her with him to heights she’d never glimpsed, never dreamed were possible, and then both of them surrendered to an utter animal wildness that had her sobbing and shaking long after it was over. All the loneliness of their lives dissolved in the blistering explosions that came too quickly and yet seemed to go on and on. In the glorious aftermath she felt bathed in his love and secure; secure, and safe for the first time in her life. She was so happy, she began to cry, but he kissed away her tears and said things to make her laugh.

  Afterward, when he helped her up and led her to his bed, he made time for gentle touches and tender words, but she knew that it was the shattering violence in the hall more than her tears or the sweetness in his bed that had wedded her soul to his.

  Always, always she would be his no matter how she might dream of other roads to travel, no matter how much she might wish to deny it when her music carried her far away.

  Chapter 7

  Phillip bathed Celeste’s face, which was still hot and flushed from their lovemaking.

  Squeezing out the sponge, he dribbled it over her breasts and golden hair. She was reclining in the bathtub which was ringed with dozens of low candles she’d lit to give the room a warm, cozy glow. She looked so beautiful, he could have stared at her forever.

  “Who are you? Who are you running from?” he murmured, setting the sponge down on the side of the tub.

  There was a long silence as she stared into the flickering glow of the candles.

  She took a deep breath. “I can’t even walk much less run.”

  He encircled her wrists with his big brown hands. “Will you stay here forever…with me?”

  As he gazed into her eyes, the pulse in her throat ticked nervously. “Does my answer matter to you so much? We have this moment. Now. It seems scary to pin everything down Marine-fashion.”

  Marine-fashion? What the hell did she mean by that? It required immense control to keep his voice level. He was used to being in charge, to mapping out strategies and seeing them through. Her temperament was more whimsical and artistic. It was the best thing and the worst thing about her.

  “What about marriage…children?” he asked.

  “I never had a real home. I can’t imagine what all that would be like or if I’d be capable of being a good wife and mother.”

  “Frankly, I don’t know much about happy homes or happy marriages, either. We’d have to take it a day at a time, make it happen. We could do it, Celeste. I know we could…but we’ve got to try.”

  “You want this perfect housewife.”

  “I used to think so.” He gazed at her. “You’ve taught me a lot about what I want.”

  “Ready for another lesson in love, Mr. Big, Tough Marine?” Her voice was soft and a little breathless.

  He knew the conversation was making her uncomfortable, so she was seducing him. He should stop her. But it didn’t matter what his logical mind knew. A few flicks of her talented fingertips drifting down the flat plain of his stomach and then stroking between his legs was all it took to unleash a floodtide of desire. A few teasing kisses in all the right places had him groaning out loud and begging for more. A few more kisses with a lot of tongue had him grabbing her by the waist and hauling her out of the tub to his bed.

  Her skin was steamy warm from the tub, her breath soft and uneven as she lay beneath him, her golden hair fanning out upon the pillows.

  “You smell like roses,” he growled.

  “But I’m all wet. We should g
et a towel or something.”

  “Let me look at you.”

  For a long moment he reveled in her lush, opulent beauty, in her utter femininity. Dark, pointy nipples. Legs that went forever.

  “You don’t need makeup or flashy dresses. You’re a natural beauty.”

  “You look pretty good yourself—brown, hunky, big.”

  He grinned. “Big—my favorite compliment.”

  She’d changed his whole world and in such a short time. Even his room wasn’t his anymore.

  She’d placed flowers and colorful pillows and pictures in every room. There were cumbersome, useless little knickknacks on every flat surface, pictures where once there had been blank spaces on his walls. She’d been here a mere month and already his ranch house felt like home instead of some bachelor’s military boot camp.

  Damn it. He wanted her. He wanted her here forever. But she had a point. What they had together would do…for now.

  Desire burned through him, destroying every well-thought-out plan he had ever made. No perfect, well-bred, society, churchgoing woman, a woman anxious to have a man’s ring on her finger and the security of marriage for him. He wanted Celeste—wild, artistic, whimsical, unrealistic Celeste. He wanted whoever or whatever she was. He wanted all of her, every part of her. And every time he had her in bed only made him want her more.

  “Honey, you consume me.”

  “Just love me,” she whispered. “I can’t get enough of you, either.”

  For now, he thought grimly. But, at least, he had her for now.

  Mabel winked at Phillip as she set his second mug of coffee on the counter. Not that he was in the mood for her chatty attentions today. She was in between husbands, and she liked to gossip and flirt with any man who showed up at the café.

  He stirred his coffee and yawned, trying to look bored.

  Mabel wasn’t fooled. “Missed you,” she said, leaning on the counter beside him to show off her ample curves. “You haven’t been in to flirt much lately.”

  “Missed you, too,” he replied dryly, but he kept stirring his coffee.

  “I nearly called you yesterday,” she said.

  “Why?”

  When he looked up, she smiled slyly and ran a fingertip through her brown curls. “A pair of sleazes came in here asking about that greasy-haired sexpot with the guitar that came here in that ripped, black cocktail dress…. You know…the girl you hired as your maid.”