by Janet Dailey
“I’m sure he’s another friend of yours. Choya, you can’t expect me to agree to let you—” Jacquie couldn’t even get the words out. Her head drew back in negative denial. “You know how I feel about you. How unwilling I would be to have you—” Again the words lodged.
“Unwilling?” A chuckle sounded deep in his throat. “Really? You?”
“Stop it!” She was furious again but no longer irrational. “You’re just trying to scare me. You wouldn’t dare touch me.”
The tawny yellow eyes never left her face as he moved lazily toward her. Jacquie’s first impulse was to retreat, but that was what he wanted her to do. She stood her ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction he sought and not believing for an instant that he meant one word he’d said.
When he stopped in front of her, Choya reached out and caught a handful of hair. It shimmered white-gold against his sun-browned fingers. Jacquie didn’t move. She wouldn’t struggle like a mouse under a cat’s paw.
His other hand came up to cup the back of her head. Its warmth lulled her for a fraction of a second. And Choya kissed her again. It was the gentlest possible kiss but her senses were on fire as the strong band of his arm encircled her. An ounce more of pressure and she was sure she’d lose her mind.
A hot sensation began to lick through her where his muscled thighs warmed hers. The power of his kiss and his strong hold was draining her resistance. The hands that she’d kept rigidly at her sides were now raised to rest on his biceps. She gasped softly, needing air to keep the whirling sensuality from taking over.
Choya allowed her a few seconds to breathe as he freed her lips and began to explore the sensitive cord in her neck and the hollow of her throat. Involuntary shivers of excitement tingled down her spine. Her breasts swelled against the knit material of her top.
He must have felt or sensed the betraying response of her flesh, for his mouth returned to her lips with a demanding expertise that parted them with consummate ease. Suddenly his virility and her sexual attraction to him became more than Jacquie could resist. With a shuddering moan, she surrendered to the pleasure of his embrace, forgetting all about the crazy fight.
With a sweeping motion, she was lifted off her feet and cradled effortlessly in his arms.
Automatically her hands wrapped themselves around his neck as his hard male lips maintained their ownership of hers. Lost in the feeling of sensual abandonment, Jacquie felt as if she was floating on a cloud. A very strong, safe cloud. She wasn’t going to fall to earth. She didn’t want to come down.
Then, beneath her, was the firmness of a mattress and the white crispness of a bed sheet. Her arms were still around his neck, her fingers locked. And then . . .
Choya’s mouth left hers and didn’t return.
“Unwilling really isn’t the right word,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”
Reality came back with a rush. What on earth was she doing? And how had he undermined her defenses? She’d been kissed before, held before . . . but never like this, she told herself. Scorching heat flamed through her face and neck. His hand slid along her thigh in a last caress as he straightened away from the bed.
Sliding awkwardly from the bed, Jacquie spoke first, oh so casually. “Nothing from you. But thanks for asking.” She straightened her clothes, wishing she didn’t feel so dazed, desperate to take back control of the situation. “There is one thing you could tell me. Why did you stop so soon?”
“Maybe I enjoy the anticipation,” Choya responded evenly, watching her move away from him. “There’s plenty of time.”
There was an empty feeling in her heart. Faking boredom didn’t make her feel better. She secretly craved more of what he could do. Never in her life had she been handled so expertly—and set aside so easily, she reminded herself.
“No, there isn’t,” Jacquie snapped, “We’re right back to square one. I’m going to pay you for the repair bill on my car as soon as I can. I’ll go to Tucson—I’ll find a job there.”
He studied her with renewed amusement. “The longdistance bus stops in Tombstone on Mondays. It’s not free.”
“It can’t be that expensive. I’ll wash dishes at the restaurant or make beds at the motel.”
“But I pay more.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Choya?”
“You’re not the only one who’s in a fix.” His words had a measured tone. She was suddenly sure he’d planned every second of this encounter—and she, like a fool, hadn’t seen it coming.
“My father is getting old and it’s becoming difficult for him to get around anymore,” he said calmly. “It’s common knowledge that I’ve been considering hiring a housekeeper. Maybe someone mentioned it to you—”
“No. They didn’t.”
“Well, no one will be surprised by your presence in my home,” Choya replied without any hesitation. “In fact, it’s only a matter of time before the story of you losing your wallet will circulate. A lot of people will probably think I’m doing you a good turn by hiring you.”
Was that all he wanted? A housekeeper? She found that very hard to believe. An incredulous laugh slipped out of her throat. “First you tell me not to talk to your son, and now you want me around the house? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, maybe I overreacted. I know my son and I didn’t know you.”
Jacquie snorted. “And you still don’t. So is that your way of saying that you made a mistake? Can I get it in writing?”
“Sure.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, watching him warily.
“Look, Jacquie, we both know I’m not talking about anything permanent. But Robbie would be happy for as long as it lasts. And you’ll be free to come and go.”
“In your jeep?”
“Ah”—he thought that over—“I have a truck too. It’s old but it runs great.”
“How old?”
Choya grinned. “Older than you and me put together. The clutch is a real challenge. But you’ll have to learn to drive it, because I use the jeep so much.”
“While my car sits in Brad’s garage. No deal.”
“A job is a job, and you need one.”
He was right about that. But working for him was something else again. It didn’t matter that the entire population of Tombstone, including the motherly Mrs. Chase, thought Choya Barnett was a great guy and would undoubtedly vouch for him. But she and Choya really didn’t like each other—hot kisses notwithstanding. On the other hand, what choice did she have? It wouldn’t be easy to find another way to earn the money she owed.
Maybe she should take the damn job he was offering. It seemed like the only way out of her predicament. But even so.
“Do you honestly think people are going to believe I’m only your housekeeper?”
“It doesn’t matter to me what they think.” He grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil with the motel’s logo on it from the table in the room. “Let’s do the arithmetic. This is what you owe Brad”—he jotted down the figure—“divided by—how many weeks is it until Christmas?”
“Five.”
He noted that, calculated the dividend and showed it to her. “That would be your weekly pay.”
She almost smiled. “Really? Then I’d be out of here before Christmas.”
He tapped the eraser end of the pencil on the paper. “Not so fast. I didn’t subtract your room and board.”
“Wait a minute. You’re not going to nickel-and-dime me for every can of beans I eat—” She stopped, wondering how he’d gotten her to take him seriously. This was beginning to sound like a negotiation.
“Of course not. But money’s tight,” he said, shaking his head and giving her a sad look. “The ranch breaks even most years, what with taxes and, um, the occasional tornado. You know how it is,” he added vaguely. “Anyway, the adjustment will bring your weekly pay down a little.” He showed her the revised figure.
“That’s a big bite!”
He grinned. “You’ll be on th
at bus by New Year’s Eve.” He had the nerve to chuckle. “Sorry. I meant you’ll be in your car.”
Jacquie spun away from him, her mind reeling. She took the pad of paper he silently proffered and studied the jotted numbers. It was this—or deal with her father’s wrath. She didn’t want to accept defeat. More than that, she didn’t want to go back home. Yet.
“Okay. I’ll try it,” she said suddenly. “One week at a time. No, make that one day at a time.”
“Whatever you say.” His eyes lit up with surprise. “Are you sure?”
“No guarantees, Choya. All I said was that I would try. But we’re going to draw up a list of rules for both of us and we’re going to stick to them.”
He handed over the pencil. “Get started.”
“Don’t you want some input?”
Choya towered over her, but she no longer felt intimidated. “You go ahead and write down what you want first.”
She wavered. If they came up with a workable way to cohabit—and didn’t that sound dry and dull, she thought with an inward sigh—what about Robbie? Jacquie consoled herself by thinking how happy he would be if she was there for Christmas. That alone was worth sticking with the arrangement Choya proposed.
Then, thinking of her mom, Jacquie stopped short. She would have to rely on her mother’s understanding nature when she explained why she wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas. Her dad’s tendency to fly off the handle was nothing new. But Jacquie standing her ground was unprecedented. Her mother might even approve.
Oh, how she hoped so. Jacquie distracted herself by remembering Robbie’s sweet little face. She’d bet the bank that Robbie enjoyed everything about the holiday. She was going to make it super-special just for him.
And then, she told herself with a flash of guilt, she would be on her way come New Year’s Eve, just like Choya said.
Jacquie pressed her lips together and tried to think of rules and regulations instead of the little boy with the shy smile. Eventually she succeeded and wrote down Rule One. It was only two words long.
No kissing.
They’d gone miles down the highway before they turned onto a rutted gravel road winding into the mountains.
Jacquie stared at the desolate scenery through the dust cloud kicked up by the jeep. The landscape didn’t seem real somehow—if she’d known it looked like this or that his ranch was this isolated she might not have agreed to come here, even temporarily. But it wasn’t as if Choya had lied to her, and she hadn’t thought to ask.
The jeep bounced over the little-traveled road. The bone-jarring ride would have wakened her if she’d been asleep. The road twisted and curved along the foot of the mountains. Here and there along a mountain slope was the telltale scar of an abandoned mine.
Occasionally Jacquie glimpsed a derelict building, long deserted, or a barely visible track leading away from the main road. Sometimes there was a small sign on a fence post, giving the name of a ranch. Mainly it was an endless landscape of sage and cactus and sunbaked rocks.
And dust. Swirling dust entered the open sides of the jeep and covered everything. The gritty particles powdered her face and skin and drifted over her clothes. Jacquie longed to ask how far they still had to go, certain the dust would suffocate her if she had to endure the ride much longer. But the silence was not one she wanted to break.
When she had viewed the Dragoon Mountains from Boothill Cemetery, the deceiving distances of the desert had made them seem so close. Now Jacquie realized that Choya’s ranch was miles from civilization, surrounded by undulating, arid land.
The jeep bounced off the road onto a rutted track seemingly leading to nowhere. Her heart sank.
When there seemed to be nothing on the horizon but desert scrub, unexpectedly large, light shapes took form. One was a stucco-walled house, low and sprawling with a half-story added on under the wide, overhanging roof. The other was a similarly constructed building with a fenced enclosure extending from it.
Two large cottonwood trees shaded the west side of the house. That was a touch of home—cottonwoods grew here and there by the river that wound through Dallas. Somewhere underground there must be water. The thought gave her a little comfort. Only cactus decorated the front yard. It couldn’t be called a lawn since there was no grass, only more desert sand and rock.
Coming closer, Jacquie decided she liked the look of it after all. Green grass and flowering shrubs would have been incongruous against the barren landscape beyond. The native plants seemed to be right at home and thriving. Tougher than tough—she remembered Robbie repeating Choya’s words and wondered if she had what it took to live up to them.
The jeep braked to a stop in front of the house and the dust cloud caught up with it, blowing in the open sides. Jacquie choked and began coughing.
Maybe she didn’t.
“Does it ever rain here?” she asked hoarsely.
Choya cast a sliding glance in her direction. “Sure. Once or twice a year.” He nodded toward the mountains, so much closer now. “Sometimes we get a dusting of snow on the Dragoons, but that’s rare. Nothing you could ski on, of course.”
Stepping out of the jeep, he reached in back for her suitcases and handbag, tossing the latter to Jacquie. She barely caught it before the contents spilled.
“Here we are,” he said cheerfully.
“Give me a minute.” She was still wheezing. Jacquie didn’t want to walk in with tearing eyes and a barking cough. “I can’t catch my breath.”
Disconcerting laughter glinted in his eyes. “Think you can walk? I could carry you over the threshold.”
“No way,” Jacquie retorted. “Robbie would get the wrong idea. And so would your father.”
“Robbie’s in school,” Choya pointed out, “but my dad’s around here somewhere.” No one opened the front door or looked out a window. There was no sound but the whistling of the wind. “Maybe he’s taking a nap.”
She straightened in the seat and swung her legs out, sliding her feet down to the ground. The action triggered a few more coughs. She reached into her bag for a tissue to wipe her eyes, then crumpled it and tucked it in her pocket.
“Seriously, I could carry you and the suitcases.”
“Oh, quit showing off. There’s no one here to see.” He only shrugged and led the way to the front door. Jacquie followed him, glaring at his back and keeping her grip on her bag. She stumbled on the flagstone path but didn’t fall. Choya turned around.
“Don’t worry. I can walk,” she snapped. “Even though I’m from Dallas.” She caught up to him.
“Very good,” he said patronizingly, “you’ll have to, until you learn to drive that.” He nodded toward an ancient Ford pickup painted an odd shade of red. Jacquie stopped and took a few steps to the side to get a better view of it. It wasn’t so much red as it was rusty. The high, rounded front grille and curved fenders told her it had rolled off the assembly line sometime in the 1930s.
“Was that the truck you were talking about? You mean it actually runs?”
“Yup.”
She looked at it dubiously. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. They don’t make them like that anymore. It was Sam’s first truck and he bought it used.”
“But—”
“He’d love to teach you how to drive it, but using the clutch is hard on his knees. Maybe I will. If you don’t mind me telling you what to do, that is.”
He chucked her under the chin and Jacquie lifted her head in indignation, about to say something cutting. He’d said the truck would be her transportation, but that didn’t seem likely now. She didn’t like the feeling that she’d been tricked.
“I hope you’re planning to buy another car. As in today,” she said crossly. “There’s no way in hell I’m driving that monster.”
“I am, actually. Believe it or not, I was thinking about it before you slammed into my jeep.”
“Oh, sure you were,” she retorted with obvious indignation, glaring up at him. “Don’t li
e to—”
He took the opportunity to shut up her up with a quick kiss on her parted lips.
“Mrmmf!” She pressed them together and twisted her head away. In another second, he was opening the unlocked front door with no show of concern. Furious, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, even as her senses flamed to life. “The first rule was no kissing!”
“You looked like you wanted one.”
“I didn’t.”
Choya studied her face for a brief second while she gathered her wits. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his kisses. She did. Too much. They kept her from thinking straight, though. If this arrangement was going to work, they had to keep a certain distance. To her annoyance, he smiled in satisfaction.
Someone inside had heard the front door open and was coming to it. A tall, gaunt man stepped out into the shadow of the building’s overhang. His angular features had a rough-cut look that not even the weight of years on his shoulders had blunted, with a leathery face crisscrossed with wrinkles. His eyes were a piercing pale blue.
Choya turned to look his way, but the older man’s gaze didn’t move to him until he’d made a thorough study of Jacquie. Choya stayed where he stood near the cement slab in front of the door.
“Sam, this is Jacqueline Grey,” Choya spoke clearly and distinctly. “She’s going to keep house for us for a while.” His tawny eyes shifted to her wary expression. “Jacquie, this is my father, Sam Barnett.”
Except for his ruggedness, there was nothing about the older man that reminded Jacquie of his autocratic son. With a rush, she remembered the service station mechanic explaining that Sam Barnett had found Choya as a baby abandoned in a cactus patch, had reared him and later legally adopted him.
There was something forthright about the older man that appealed to Jacquie. Despite his cragginess, he had an open face and a direct gaze. Good. She would need an ally if she was going to pull this off. Her lips relaxed their tight line as she searched the lined face.
