*'You're much prettier than Grade," Gun said by way of greeting.
"Thank you." Megan's hand disappeared in his, her eyes widening as she took in the classic perfection of his features. The man could have posed for a statue of Adonis, she thought, momentarily struck dumb. But she felt none of the electricity when she shook his hand that she felt just glancing at Kel. She admired Gun's looks—what living, breathing woman wouldn't?—but admiration was all she felt.
"It's about time Kel found someone to take over while Grade's off taking care of her daughter," Gun said as he released her hand. "We were all in danger of starving to death."
"I can see you're down to skin and bones." Megan eyed the width of his shoulders and wondered if she should add another box of spaghetti to the pot.
Gun's appreciative grin faded as his eyes went over her head to Colleen, who'd just come into the dining room. Something flashed in his eyes, a look Megan couldn't quite identify. Pain? Regret? It was gone too quickly to be sure. Megan turned to look at the girl, seeing all the animation gone from her face, leaving her features stiff.
"HeUo, CoUeen."
**Gun." Colleen mumbled his name by way of greeting, her eyes sHding across him without pausing.
"How are you?"
* *Fine.'' Colleen's fingers tightened around the stack of plates she was carrying until the knuckles turned white, and Megan half expected to see the china crack. "I'll just go check the spaghetti," she said, when the silence threatened to stretch. She thrust the plates at Megan and turned to hurry from the room, her gait made more awkward by her quick pace.
Megan turned to set the plates on the table, her eyes skinmiing across Gun Larsen's face as she did so. There was no mistaking the bleak look in his eyes. Whatever the reason for Colleen's reaction to him, it had cut him deeply.
After the Uttle scene, she was unsurprised when Colleen was almost silent during dinner, her eyes
rarely leaving her plate. The men's discussion of ranching business served to cover her silence but Megan doubted she was the only one who noticed it. Her curiosity was piqued. If Colleen had been older or Gun younger, she might have suspected a broken love affair. But Gun seemed about the same age as Kel, thirty-five or -six, and she couldn't see Kel tolerating any kind of affair between his nineteen-year-old sister and his friend.
Megan wondered if she'd be here long enough to find out what the situation was.
Colleen excused herself almost immediately after dinner, saying she was tired, but Megan would have bet her next week's salary that the girl's departure had less to do with courting Morpheus than it did with avoiding Gun.
She pondered that thought while she cleaned up the kitchen. The two men had gone down to the bam to check on a mare that was due to foal any day. But they'd both complimented her on the meal before they left. Not that they'd needed to say anything. The fact that each had consumed two huge helpings of spaghetti and meatballs was compliment enough.
She could grow to like it here, Megan thought as she shut the dishwasher. She delayed turning it on a moment, savoring the absolute quiet of the big old house. No traffic, no neighbor's television or radio, nothing but the rusty sound of crickets scratching out their song.
Her mouth curving in a soft smile, she flipped the switch and the quiet vanished in the hum of the dishwasher. She wanted this job and it wasn't only be-
cause of her attraction to Kel Bryan, though she couldn't deny that that had been the driving motivation. She needed what the ranch had to offer—peace and quiet, a chance to hear herself think, time to figure out where her life was going.
With the kitchen immaculate, Megan wandered through the dining room and into the entryway. She was tired and it wasn't too early to consider going up to her room. A nice warm bath and a good night's sleep sounded lovely. But instead of going upstairs, she pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the wide front porch.
Letting the door close quietly behind her, she drew in a deep breath. As she released it, she felt as if she was letting go of all the tensions that seemed a normal part of city living. She'd spent the last year in Los Angeles, long enough for the acrid bite of smog to begin to seem normal.
Megan closed her eyes to savor the absence of carbon monoxide. She'd never really appreciated that clean air could have a taste, too. It tasted of mountain springs and tall grass, of sagebrush and cotton-wood, of wide open space and endless skies.
"It's something, isn't it?"
Startled, Megan opened her eyes to see Gun standing on the ground below where she leaned on the porch railing. **I didn't hear you," she said.
"Sorry. I'll try to walk harder."
"I guess I'm so used to dty noises that anything less than a blaring horn just doesn't register," she said, smiling. "I thought you were checking on a mare."
"She decided to wait another day or two." Gun climbed the steps to join her on the porch. It struck Megan that, for such a big man, he was very light on his feet. "Kel will be up in a bit," he added, seeing her eyes go past him.
Megan gave what she hoped was a disinterested shrug, as if Kel Bryan's whereabouts were of absolutely no interest to her. She only wished it was true.
**Are you from this area?" she asked.
"Bom and raised a few miles north of here," he said, nodding his head in that direction. "My father's ranch borders the Bryan place."
Megan opened her mouth to ask why he was spending the summer working on the Lazy B when his father owned the neighboring ranch, then closed it without speaking. It was none of her business.
"My father and I don't see eye to eye," Gun said, apparently reading her mind. "Actually, last time we saw each other, he promised to greet me with a shotgun if I ever set foot on his land again."
His tone was light but Megan couldn't help but think that there was an underlying note of pain in the words. Or maybe it was just reflecting old hurts of her own onto Gun. All the years she'd wondered what she'd done to cause her parents to walk away from her. It was only in the past few years that she'd finally realized there wasn't anything an eight-year-old could do to deserve abandonment, that it wasn't what she'd done, it was simply what her parents had been.
"Family's never as simple as The Brady Bunch made it look," she said ruefully.
"Too bad. Just think how great it would be if every problem could be solved ia half an hour with time left over for commercials."
"And your biggest problem was whetha* your dad would loan you the car to go to the big dance."
Gun chuckled. "Or whether your burgundy leisure suit would be ready in time to pick up your date."
"Now there was a big problem.''
Kiel saw them laughing together as he came up from the bam and he slowed. They made an attractive couple. Gun lowered his head to hear what Megan was saying and the porch haloed their fair hair, reminding Kel of the illustrations of angels in childhood picture books.
Or Ken and Barbie, he thought irritably.
His footsteps were heavier than they needed to be on the porch steps and he was unreasonably pleased when their laughter trailed off. Not that it mattered who M^an laughed with. He sure as hell didn't care. It was just that it was late and he was tired and the two of them standing there laughing like a pair of idiots grated on his nerves.
"We were just discussing The Brady Bunch as a model for problem solving," Gun said, turning as Kel stepped onto the porch.
"The Brady Bunch?'* They were discussing a twenty-year-old television show?
"Sure. The show offered a microcosm of life experience," Gun said, drawing his face into solemn lines. "I think it should be considered on a par with groundbreaking social commentary programs like Leave it To Beaver and Life With Father, * *
"Let's not forget The Three Stooges,'' Kel said dryly. **Now there was a show filled with deeper meaning."
"Clearly a statement against the meaningless violence of society." Gun shook his head, drawing his mouth down in a reasonable semblance of professorial concern.
"A woman as beautiful as you are doesn't need to twitch her nose to be bewitching," Gun said with such obvious gallantry that Megan grinned.
"Flattery Hke that could get you any niunber of things," she said lightly.
"Fd settle for another slice of that pecan pie you made for dinner."
Megan chuckled, a soft warm sound that made Kel want to see if it tasted as good as it soimded. And Gun was the one who'd made her laugh. Not that it meant anything. Charm came to Gim as naturally as breathing, a fact that had never bothered Kel in the past. But it bothered him now.
"I think there's a couple of sUces left over," Megan said. She straightened away from the railing as if to go into the house and cut the pie. Gun would go with her, and unless he wanted to trail along like a lost calf, the two of them would be alone in the kitchen.
"It's getting late," he said abruptly.
Gun and Megan turned to look at him, their expressions faintly surprised. As if one of the posts had spoken up, Kel thought sourly.
**Not quite time to turn into a pumpkin," Gim commented.
**Workdays start early on a ranch," Kel said, addressing the comment to Megan, speaking as employer to employee. "You probably have things to do before you turn in." He ignored the knowing grin that appeared on Gim's face.
Actually, she didn't have much to do but Megan knew a dismissal when she heard one. She flushed a little, wondering if she was being gently reminded that she was the housekeeper and shouldn't be fraternizing with a friend of the family. Kel hadn't struck her as being the sort who'd care about such things but snobbery turned up in odd places.
"Now that I think about it, it is getting late," Gun said. "Maybe I'll have a piece of that pie for breakfast in the morning."
"I'm not sure pecan pie qualifies as a healthy start to your day." Megan smiled at him.
"Breakfast isn't part of your job," Kel reminded her before Gun could say anything.
Gun's grin grew even wider and he shot Kel a look she couldn't interpret. "I can probably manage to cut myself a slice of pie," he said.
"I thought you could." Kel looked at him, green eyes clashing with blue.
Megan felt as if she'd come in on the middle of a movie and had missed some vital piece of information. There seemed to be something going on between the two men but she hadn't the faintest idea what it was. Perhaps it was one of those strange masculine
rituals that women simply weren't primitive enough to understand.
"I think I will go up," she said. She said good-night to both men and went inside.
She actually was rather tired, Megan thought. A warm bath sounded like heaven. Then she could crawl under the covers and read for a httle while. She'd bought a history of Wyoming while she was in Casper and she was looking forward to reading more about this place that felt so strangely like home to her.
Before going upstairs, she went to the kitchen, checking to be sure that the meat for tomorrow night's dinner was thawing in the refrigerator. As Kel had so pointedly told Gun, each person was on his own for breakfast. At lunch, the men generally ate with the hands so she only had to worry about feeding herself and Colleen. Dinner was the only meal Kel would be sharing with them on a regular basis. Which was probably just as well, she thought ruefully. Considering the effect he had on her nervous system, his presence could wreak havoc on her digestion.
Satisfied that the kitchen was in order for the next day, she snapped off the light and left the room. Her foot was on the bottom stair when she heard the door open behind her. A shiver of awareness ran down her spine even before she turned and met Kel's eyes. He wasn't close enough for her to read his expression and she sincerely hoped that his eyesight wasn't sharper than hers. If it was, she was afraid he might be able to see the way her knees weakened at the sight of him.
**I was just going up to bed," she said, feeling the need to fill the silence.
"I think rU join you."
Megan forgot how to breathe. Join her? In bed? She felt her eyes widen as she stared at him.
"Join me?*' she r^)eated, her voice only a little higher than normal.
"Going upstairs," he clarified as he pushed the door shut behind him. A downward sweep of his palm turned off the porch light. "I think Fll turn in, too."
"Oh." Of course that was what he'd meant, she scolded herself. And that was relief she felt, not disappointment. Not even for a moment did she feel disappointed.
"You didn't lock the door," she pointed out.
"There aren't very many thieves motivated enough to drive this far off the highway to find something to steal." He reached just inside the living room door to shut off the lamp. "Besides, they'd have to drive right by the bunkhouse and Gun sleeps like a cat."
"Gun sleeps in the bunkhouse?" she asked, trying to keep her breathing steady as Kel crossed the oak floor toward her.
"He prefers it," Kel answered shortly.
"Oh." She seemed to be saying that a lot lately but it was as much as she was capable of at the moment.
Kel stopped in front of her, close enough for her to see the clear green of his eyes. She was standing on the bottom step, which put them almost at eye level. If she leaned forward just a Uttle...
Her eyes were smoke and twilight, Kel thought, pale blue rimmed with darker gray. He let his gaze drift downward, lingering on the soft coral of her mouth before finding the pulse that beat a little too quickly
at the base of her throat. He wanted to put his mouth against that pulse, to taste the flutter of her heartbeat. From there, it would be easy to let his mouth slide down the open collar of her shirt.
He saw the movement of her throat as she swallowed, and it took considerable self-control to force his eyes to her face. He only had to lean forward a little to find out if her mouth could possibly taste as sweet as it looked.
Her lips parted as if she was having trouble getting enough air.
•So close.
She turned suddenly and started up the stairs. Kel stayed where he was for a moment, his hand clenched over the newel post, his breathing just a little ragged. I>amn, but he couldn't remember the last time a woman had affected him this way. Not even his ex-wife, and he'd wanted her enough to convince himself that what he was feeling was love.
If Megan hadn't turned away, he would have kissed her. And from kissing her, it wouldn't have taken more than a half step to find himself making love to her on the damn stairs like a sex-crazed maniac. Even more annoying was the fact that, rather than being grateful that he'd been prevented from making a total fool of himself, he was disappointed.
Damn.
His long l^s made short work of the stairs and he caught up with M^an as she leached the second floor. The look she gave him was both wary and aware. He could understand both feelings, he thought ruefully.
He saw her glance in the direction of Colleen's room and knew she was thinking that his room was probably on the same side of the house. He nodded in the opposite direction and saw her eyes widen as she realized that the room he'd given her had to be near his own. He waited for her to say something—a protest? A warning about nocturnal wanderings? But she simply turned and walked down the hallway.
She smelled of fresh bread and flowers, he thought. A strangely erotic combination. But he was starting to think that just about everything about Megan Roarke was erotic—or seemed so to him. He was also starting to wish he hadn't given in to the impulse to put her on this side of the house. There was a perfectly good guest bedroom next to Colleen's room. How the hell was he supposed to sleep knowing that she was right across the hall?
His room was right across the hall from hers? Megan felt her heart thump against her breastbone when Kel pushed open the door. She caught a glimpse of smooth oak floors and the comer of a peeled post bed.
"That's...your room?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't notice the odd little break in her voice.
**Uh-huh." He nodded, his eyes going over her in a look reminiscent of the one the big bad wolf must have given Little Red Riding Hood right before gulping her down, red cape and all. "If you need anything, just give a whistle."
The offer might have been tongue-in-cheek but the look in his eyes said he wouldn't have any objection if she took him up on it.
"I, ah, doubt Fll need anything." Her voice shook and she swallowed to steady it. "Good night."
•'Goodnight."
How was it possible for him to send shivers down her spine with even the most prosaic of words? she wondered despairingly. Megan felt those green eyes watching her as she pushed open her door.
She couldn't resist the urge to glance at him as she stepped into her room. Their eyes met for an instant and she thought it was almost possible to see the electricity that arced between them.
And then she shut the door and leaned against it, her knees as weak as if she'd just climbed twenty flights of stairs.
Chapter 4
JAj&l had heard it said that you should never marry someone until you'd seen them first thing in the morning, before they'd had their first cup of coffee. He understood the thinking. If you woke up slowly, it would be wise to know if you were about to make a lifetime commitment to someone who bounded from bed singing the joys of the day.
Colleen had been known to threaten dismemberment for anyone foolish enough to smile at her before she'd been up at least an hour. His ex-wife had rarely left their bed much before noon, only one of many ways in which she'd failed to make the adjustment to ranch hfe.
Ranching tended to make a morning person out of even the most confirmed night owl. There was simply too much to be done to allow precious daylight hours to sUp by. Getting up at dawn was normal for him, but
he hadn't expected his new housekeeper to do the same.
Kel was mixing eggs and milk into a bowl of pancake mix when Megan entered the kitchen. He looked up, his first reaction surprise, his second the surge of hunger that was rapidly becoming familiar. It was the first time he'd seen her with her hair loose. She'd caught it back from her face with a pair of tortoise-shell combs and then let it fall in pale gold waves to just below her shoulders. He had the immediate urge to slide his fingers through it, to see if it was as soft as it looked.
Michael's Father Page 4
