“You should be up there with them,” Miranda said, coming over to the stove, where her sister-in-law stirred the warming milk.
Patty gave her a wry smile and kept whisking. “I needed a break.”
Miranda nodded her understanding.
“The Empire’s backup quarterback isn’t doing so great.” Patty poured the steaming hot chocolate into the crockery mug she’d set beside the stove. “I wish your friend Archer wasn’t injured.”
“He wasn’t happy about being benched,” Miranda said without thinking.
“He told you that?” Patty handed Miranda the mug with her eyebrows raised.
Miranda brought the chocolate to her lips to give herself time to think. She took a tiny sip of the hot liquid. “I must have heard it on the radio.”
Patty was still watching her. “Luke Archer never questions his coach’s decisions in public.”
“I guess he told me, then.”
There was a moment’s silence before Patty took the pan to the sink and ran water into it. “Let’s go watch the second half of the game.”
Miranda cursed herself for being indiscreet. She was so tired she couldn’t think straight.
Following her sister-in-law into the family room, she curled up in one corner of the green-and-blue plaid sofa, dragging a knitted afghan over her lap.
The Empire had just returned to the field, and she found herself scanning the sideline for Luke’s golden head. She found him in an instant, despite the baseball cap he wore. She could recognize him just by the set of his shoulders and the shape of his legs, even with the pads distorting their long, muscular lines. He and the coach were conferring as the rookie quarterback, Brandon Pitch, ran onto the field.
“Let’s hope Archer gave Pitch what for at halftime,” Patty muttered.
Miranda realized she hadn’t even looked at the score. She cringed when she saw the Empire’s seventeen-point deficit.
“What do you think veteran quarterback Luke Archer said to rookie Brandon Pitch in the locker room?” the announcer asked his sidekick, in an echo of Patty’s comment.
“Archer doesn’t make long speeches, so I’m figuring something like ‘Get your act together and win this game,’” the sidekick responded with a chuckle.
“I think I’d use stronger language than that, after Pitch got sacked three times,” the announcer said.
The camera cut back to the sideline and zoomed in on Luke, so close that Miranda could see the cold, focused blue of his eyes in the shadow of the cap’s bill. She sucked in a sharp breath at the painful beauty of the face that she would never touch again.
“Miranda, is something going on between you and Luke Archer?” Patty asked.
“What? No.” She tried to give her sister-in-law a look of bland innocence. But the ache of loss walloped her in the chest and she choked on a sob. “Not anymore.”
“Sweetie, what happened?” Patty put down the bowl of popcorn and scooted over next to Miranda.
“I was an unrealistic fool,” Miranda said, clenching her hands around the mug to keep the tears at bay. “I knew he would go back to playing football, but I let myself get involved with him anyway.”
“How involved?”
Miranda stared down into the dark, rich chocolate. She’d spent the last two days telling herself it had just been amazing sex and that was what she missed so much. When she was out with the cows, she could even convince herself of that. But now, seeing him again, the yearning reached far deeper than that. “It sounds ridiculous, but I think I fell in love with him.”
“Oh, honey.” Patty put her arm around Miranda’s shoulders. “Every woman on the planet fantasizes about Luke Archer, so it’s no wonder you’re dazzled by that brilliant glow that surrounds him.”
Miranda shook her head. “I’ve met a lot of celebrities. I’m not that easy to dazzle anymore.” She met Patty’s gaze. “He’s so different from what you see on television and in the magazines.”
Her sister-in-law said nothing.
“He loves his brother, Trevor, and gets hurt by Trevor’s resentment. He’s insecure about what he doesn’t know because he’s been so focused on football all his life, but he knows more than he thinks. He’s an incredibly generous”—she’d been about to say lover but stopped herself—“person.”
Patty gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “That may be true, but since you hang out with the rich and famous, you know they’re not like us. They’re used to getting what they want without considering the consequences.”
Miranda looked away. “I knew the rules. He doesn’t have relationships during the football season.”
“So why did he break his own rules?”
“He had some bad bruising, so the coach made him take the week off. He’s fine now,” Miranda hastened to add. “The coach just wanted to give Pitch a chance to play.”
“Wrong decision,” Patty muttered before she returned to Miranda’s love life. “I hate to say this, but it sounds like you were just his entertainment for the week.”
Her comment drilled into Miranda. No matter how often she’d told herself the same thing, hearing someone else put it into words made it sound sordid. And true. Miranda winced. “I told you I was a fool.”
“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
Patty’s sympathy broke the tenuous hold Miranda had on her tears. They streaked down her cheeks and clogged her throat. Her sister-in-law took the mug out of Miranda’s grip and pulled her into a hug. “Go ahead and cry, honey. You’ll feel better.”
Miranda dropped her head onto Patty’s shoulder and let all the tension of the week escape with her sobs. It wasn’t just Luke she cried for, but her worry about Theo and Dennis, the loss of her job, and her responsibility for the family finances. She let the tears spill out until her body felt wrung dry.
As she lifted her head, a roar came from the television set. “Touchdown, Empire!” the announcer bellowed.
Both Miranda and Patty turned toward the screen as the replay showed Brandon Pitch shaking off a defender and throwing a perfect pass to the open wide receiver. The receiver sprinted the last few yards into the end zone and did a zany dance.
“And it’s good,” the announcer intoned when the extra point was scored by the kicker.
As Pitch jogged off the field, the camera followed him until he stopped in front of Luke. The two men did nothing more than exchange a nod, but Miranda thought the announcer was correct when he said, “Something happened between Archer and Pitch at halftime. That’s them acknowledging it worked.”
Patty turned to Miranda. “I can turn this off if it’s too hard for you to watch.”
It was an intense combination of pain and pleasure. “I can handle it.”
“I guess you’ll need to get used to it because you’ll see him at the Pinnacle,” Patty said, handing Miranda a box of tissues.
Miranda had lied about her job, telling Patty that Orin had agreed to give her the week off. Patty and Dennis had enough to deal with right now without worrying about money. “He has a private entrance and a personal assistant, so I rarely see him anyway.”
Maybe getting fired was a blessing in disguise. If she were in her office at the Pinnacle, she would imagine feeling his presence even through all those floors between them, remembering how the leather of his couch felt against her bare skin as he knelt and spread her thighs open with his powerful hands. Even worse, she could picture him staring at the giant photo of the two cowboys and feeling the pain of Trevor’s betrayal.
“How about we add something to that hot chocolate?” Patty said, standing up and heading for the locked cabinet where they kept a few bottles of liquor. “Think of it as therapy for your aching muscles and your bruised heart.”
Chapter 25
The morning after Pitch snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, Luke tried to focus on a new play diagram, but his mind kept returning to his last night with Miranda. It wasn’t making him happy. Well, some parts of it were.
When his assistant, Doug, knocked on the office door, Luke tossed the diagram aside with a sense of relief.
“Morning, Boss Ice. Everyone wants to know what you said to Brandon yesterday that set him on fire in the second half.”
“You’ll have to ask him,” Luke said, leaning back in the chair.
Doug cast his eyes skyward in resigned exasperation. “I should have known I wouldn’t get a straight answer.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
Doug grinned. “I keep hoping I’ll trip you up.” The grin vanished, and a slight blush climbed his assistant’s cheeks as he offered Luke a printout of an e-mail. “Look, I don’t mess with your personal life, but this just came from the Pinnacle, and I thought you’d want to see it.”
Luke took the paper.
Dear Mr. Archer,
We wish to inform you of a change in personnel in our concierge service. Ms. Miranda Tate is no longer a part of our team. We wish her the best of luck with her new endeavor.
We promise that our unparalleled commitment to the comfort and satisfaction of our residents will continue.
Regards,
Orin Spindle
CEO, Elite Concierge Services
“What the hell?” Luke sat up straight and read it again.
Miranda couldn’t have gotten a new job in the two days since he’d seen her. The memory of how they’d parted slammed him in the gut. Again.
“Thanks, Doug. You did the right thing giving this to me.”
Doug let out a sigh of relief. “You want me to see what I can find out?”
“No, I’ll handle it.”
His assistant nodded and left. Luke stared at the e-mail without seeing it. Miranda shared her office with someone. Stacy? No, Sofia. He’d start there. He pulled up the number that used to go to Miranda’s desk and got her office mate. After some persuading, Sofia admitted that Miranda had been scheduled to work Monday morning. Orin had called Sofia Sunday with the news that Miranda was no longer employed there, and he needed Sofia to come in.
That was all Luke needed to know. He speed-dialed Spindle’s number.
“Mr. Archer,” the head concierge answered. “It’s a pleasure. How may I assist you?”
“By telling me the truth about Miranda Tate.” He kept his voice low and even and menacing.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss personnel issues with our residents. It’s purely to protect our staff members’ privacy.”
Spindle’s prissy self-righteousness ticked Luke off. “No problem. I’ll take it up with”—he searched for the name of the building’s executive manager and found it in some recess of his brain—“Boyce Schmidt. Nice talking with you.”
“Mr. Archer!” Spindle’s prissiness was replaced by a note of panic. “That won’t be necessary. Ms. Tate has some family matters that need her attention, and she felt a leave of absence would be appropriate.”
“Your e-mail makes it sound like she’s gone on to a new job.”
“In my haste to inform the residents of the change, I may not have phrased my communication as carefully as I should have. I didn’t wish anyone to wonder why Ms. Tate was not responding to their requests.”
“You’re an asshole, Spindle.”
Luke disconnected with a disgusted swipe of his finger. Once he’d tracked down Miranda, he’d have Spindle fired. It was time for that nasty little weasel to get what he deserved.
He leaned back in the chair again, debating. Would Miranda tell him the truth if he called her? Would she even answer his call? Miranda’s family might not be willing to talk to him, either. They struck him as loyal folks.
No, he needed to get hold of someone else, a neighbor, maybe. He hoped like hell nothing had happened to the nephew. He was a cute kid. Once again he rummaged around the corners of his mind and came up with the name of the town where the family farm was located. Then he started googling and made a couple of phone calls.
Thirty minutes later, he sauntered into the gym and scanned the room. “Hey, Gorman, aren’t you from Wisconsin?”
A man with a slicked-back blond ponytail and massive biceps lowered the weights he was bench-pressing. “Yeah. You want some cheese or something?”
“You ever milked a cow?”
“Just because I’m from Wisconsin doesn’t mean I grew up on a farm.”
“Did you?”
Gorman eyed Luke warily. “I might have.”
“Good. I have a friend who needs some help on a dairy farm. I’d take it as a favor if you’d go up there with me tomorrow.”
“I’ve got plans,” Gorman said, picking up his weights.
Luke let his eyes rest on Gorman’s face.
After a few seconds, the big man sighed. “When and where?”
Luke smiled. “Davis and Shetler are coming, too. We’ll see who handles cattle better, Longhorns or Cheeseheads.” Luke tapped Gorman’s bulging shoulder. “Appreciate it, man.”
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Gavin Miller’s name and headed for the door as he answered, “What is this, a weekly check-in?”
“I’m bored,” the writer said. “Tuesday’s your day off, so let’s play.”
“I play for a living.”
“There you go with that punning when I’m supposed to be the wordsmith.”
“If you can’t do your job, you have to bring in replacements.” Luke kept walking down the hall toward his office.
“Low blow, boyo,” Miller said with an edge to his tone. “So what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”
“Milking cows.”
Miller laughed. “Now that’s a unique attempt to get rid of me. You could just say, ‘Piss off.’”
“You’re not good at taking no for an answer.” Luke felt a smile twitch at the corner of his lips. He admired Miller’s imperviousness to insults.
“One of my many charms,” the writer said. “Seriously, join me for lunch at the Bellwether tomorrow.”
“I told you, I have cows to milk.”
“I’ll call your bluff and join you in the barn.”
Luke cursed inwardly. He’d wanted to keep Miller away from Miranda, and now he was leading him straight to her. “You ever touched a cow?”
“I’m from rural Illinois, where farm animals abound.”
“You didn’t answer the question.” He turned into his office.
After a brief pause, Miller said, “I’ve touched a cow. And a horse. And a lot of sheep and chickens. But don’t tell anyone.”
Luke was surprised by the ring of grudging truth in his answer. It sounded as though only desperation would force Miller to admit his background. The man must really need a break. “Okay. Meet me here at the Empire Center at eight a.m.”
“Who’s driving?”
“My pilot. We’re taking the chopper.”
Miller whistled. “I can’t wait to meet your farmer friend.”
That reminded Luke of how badly he’d screwed up with Miranda. “My farmer friend may not feel the same way.”
Chapter 26
On Tuesday morning, Miranda groaned as she swung open the heavy wooden door to the cheese cave. Her shoulders and arms already ached from attaching the milking machines to the cow’s udders, dragging around bales of hay, and shoveling cow manure. The mouthwatering scent of aging cheese wafted outward, so she closed her eyes and just breathed it in for a long moment.
Dennis’s artisanal cheeses kept the farm profitable, but they had to be taken to the markets in New York City, where the high-end chefs paid top dollar to list “Tate Farms handmade cheddar” on their menus. Tomorrow was market day, so Miranda needed to load the cheese into the delivery van she’d backed up to the cave. The driver would pick the truck up at 2:00 a.m. and head for the city. At least he hadn’t succumbed to the flu.
She stepped into the prep room and swung the door shut behind her. The cave was man-made, a cement-lined space Dennis had dug into the side of a hill once he decided cheese was worth the investment. Each shelf-fill
ed room held different sorts of cheese, aging in different ways and for different periods of time. Luckily, Dennis had already sorted and packaged the cheeses that were ready for shipping before he’d been struck down by the flu. All Miranda had to do was lug them to the truck.
“Yeah, that’s all I have to do.” She shed her outdoor boots and jacket and put on the clean overalls and boots required for handling the pristine cheeses. As she was tucking her hair into a net, her cell phone vibrated in her jeans pocket.
She considered ignoring it since she’d just fastened up the coveralls. But Dennis was still feverish, so she dragged the zipper back down and fished the phone out of her jeans pocket. When she saw Patty’s name on the screen, she answered instantly. “Is everything okay?”
“No one’s died, but I think you’d better get back here to the house right away. Can’t talk anymore. Gotta go.” Her sister-in-law hung up.
Miranda swiftly toed off the boots and tossed the hairnet and overalls back on the counter. It sounded as though Dennis or Theo—or maybe both—had taken a turn for the worse. That would be bad news when Theo had seemed on the mend, and Dennis’s temperature had come down to 101. She shrugged into her jacket and jogged back out to the battered pickup truck she’d parked by the cheese-making shed. Seeing all the gleaming equipment through the window reminded her of her responsibility for the payments, and she felt the weight settle on her already sagging shoulders.
It would be easier to sling hay bales than to carry the financial burden right now.
As the rattletrap old truck crested the hill, she could see the farmhouse. A large green SUV and an unfamiliar pickup sat in the driveway.
All she could think of was that Patty had needed to call the doctor. Terror tightened Miranda’s throat, and she slammed her foot down on the accelerator, practically going airborne. Skidding into the driveway, she leaped out of the truck and barreled through the front door and into the hallway. “Patty! What’s happened?” she called, not sure whether to go upstairs.
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