“Oh. Talking.” Poppy smirked. “C’mon, Rose. Were you really just shooting the breeze, or were you making out, too?”
Everyone laughed. Rose tried, and failed, to contain the heat moving from the center of her chest to her face. “I’m going to plead the Fifth on that one,” she said dryly.
Although the truth was, they hadn’t kissed.
She had wanted to kiss, because she positively ached to feel his lips on hers again, but Clint was the perfect gentleman all night long. Apparently he’d been respecting her boundaries. Boundaries she now yearned to break down.
Her sisters studied the shifting expressions on her face. Everyone laughed again.
Lily stood. “Well, I for one hope you do open your heart and get married again. Take it from me, sis. There’s nothing like making a commitment and sharing your life with the man of your dreams.”
Rose knew that.
She also realized she had made a terrible mistake once, and that one day Barry’s desertion would come to hurt her children. Therefore, she didn’t want them to count on Clint as anything other than yet another family friend. She might lose him, too, if things did not work out the way her starry-eyed sisters hoped.
So it was probably best they kept things casual.
“When are you going to see him again?” Violet asked, cutting into her thoughts.
Not sure how she’d let him talk her into it, Rose sighed. “Tonight. We have a bet he’s just itching to win.”
* * *
“HI, MR. CLINT. How come you’re wearing a costume?” Stephen asked hours later when Rose opened the door.
Actually, Rose thought, admiring the handsome, dashing way Clint looked, it was only part of one. He wore his usual jeans and boots, but instead of a button-up, he had on a gray knit T-shirt with a big red-and-yellow S printed on the front. A large red cape was tied around his neck. And as a finishing touch, he had a large shopping bag in one hand and a small cooler marked Superhero First-Aid Kit in the other.
Clint winked at the kids, explaining, “I’m here to play the Superheroes game with you-all.”
Cheers of excitement went up from the younger crowd.
“Do we get costumes, too?” Scarlet asked.
“You sure do.” Clint brought out a stack of similar T-shirts and began passing them out. Superboy went to Stephen. Supergirl shirts went to Sophia and Scarlet. “And for you, Mommy,” Clint said, handing over the last, “Superwoman!”
Aware he was going to be very hard to resist if he kept up a charm offensive like this, Rose demurred. “I didn’t know I was going to be playing.”
He caught her hand and pulled her to his side. “It won’t be nearly as much fun unless you do.”
And fun was the goal for the evening.
“Then I’m in,” Rose said.
The kids were already tugging the shirts on over their heads.
Clint looked at Rose, desire in his eyes, mischief curving the corners of his lips. “Need a hand with yours?”
Ha, ha. Her insides fluttered at the memory of the first time he’d helped her out of her clothing. The lovemaking that had followed might have been ill-advised, but it was still spectacular. “I think I can do it,” she said drolly. Her pulse pounding with excitement, she tugged the shirt on over the yellow short-sleeved tee she was already wearing. “Now what?”
Clint opened the shopping bag again. With a flourish he brought out four capes—three tyke-size, another that was just her size.
“Well, first we put on our capes.” He hunkered down and helped everyone fasten the red garments around their necks. “And then we go outside together to hunt down the villains. Okay, Superfamily,” Clint said. “Let’s go!”
Together the five of them swooped outside. Clint spread the edges of his cape wide on either side of him. “Come on, everyone, time to fly!” He zoomed on ahead, swaying back and forth, pretending he was soaring like a bird in the air. Everyone followed suit.
“I don’t see any villains!” Stephen shouted, really getting into the game.
Clint adapted his pace so all could catch up. “Keep looking!” he shouted over his shoulder.
Around and around the bungalow they went until Clint came to an abrupt stop.
Peeking out of one of the gardenia bushes was a garden scarecrow like the ones sold in Susie Carrigan’s landscaping center. The four-foot doll with rag-mop hair and a denim and plaid ensemble appeared to be looking out at them. Without warning, Clint clutched his chest dramatically and fell down. He sprawled on the grass in front of the gardenia bush.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Clint?” Sophia was the first to reach him.
Weakly, Clint pointed in the direction of the gardenia. Inside a clear plastic jar was what looked to be green jelly beans. “It’s...kryptonite...!” he gasped. “It’s making...me...so...weak...”
“What should we do?” Stephen asked quickly.
Clint clutched his chest. “I need...the antidote! It’s in the superhero first-aid cooler!”
“I’ll get it!” Beginning to see where this might be going, Rose raced back inside. She returned and set it down on the grass beside the still writhing and moaning Clint.
“Open it,” he rasped.
Rose did as directed. She and the kids looked inside.
Clint gasped. “I need...the green beans! Quick! Give me three of them...before I—!”
Rose opened the container. “Better do as he says,” she told the triplets soberly.
“Help me sit up,” Clint grunted when they had three in hand.
Rose knelt behind him and pretended to push his broad shoulders upright. Which was easier imagined than done, given how big and solidly muscled he was. Still hamming it up, Clint held out his hand. The kids solemnly put the veggies in his palm.
“Here...goes...” He ate one. Then another. Then a third. Slowly he began to look and act normal.
Finally he said, “I think I’m all better. Yep, the veggies worked to fight off the kryptonite.” A big smile spread across his face. “I’m only glad that no one else...” He turned to look at Rose. Getting the gist of what he wanted her to do, she too collapsed dramatically on the grass beside Clint. “Is it the kryptonite?” he gasped, leaning over her.
Feebly, Rose nodded.
“Kids!” Clint shouted. “You know what to do!”
And so it went. Rose ate her green beans—and survived. Then Scarlet fell ill. She too had to eat three green beans. As did the similarly suffering Stephen and Sophia.
Finally all had triumphed over the deadly substance.
“So what do you think?” Clint asked Rose hours later, after dinner had been eaten and the kids were tucked in for the night. “Did I win our bet?”
Unable to recall a time when she and her kids had enjoyed more fun, Rose grinned over at him. “You sure did.”
He strolled closer, the desire she felt deep inside reflected in his eyes. “We could try orange kryptonite and sweet potato fries the next time they want to play Superheroes.”
She’d been hoping he would be game for another round. “Good idea, but...I think you might have to be here for that to be a success.”
“That can be arranged.” He hooked an arm about her waist and threaded a hand through her hair. Then he kissed her tenderly. “As winner of the bet, I hereby claim our first official date should be this weekend.”
“Well, fair is fair, I suppose.” Gazing indulgently up at him, she laid her hands on his chest. “The kids are having a sleepover with some of their cousins at my parents’ house on Saturday night...”
“Then how about I pick you up here at seven?”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
His smile widened. “Somewhere...surprising.”
Chapter Ten
“You’ve got
to be kidding me.” Rose stared at the two horses, saddled and ready, standing patiently in front of her house. As promised, Clint had surprised her for their Saturday evening date.
He lifted his Stetson and resettled it on his head. “You don’t like to ride?” Sexy crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes.
She had spent a long time getting ready herself but was unprepared for how good he looked. The cut of his tan Western sport coat and jeans played up his masculine physique, while the bright white of his shirt contrasted nicely with his sun-bronzed skin and the chestnut strands of his freshly cropped hair. He’d also shaved closely and smelled of leather-and-spice cologne.
“Actually, I love to ride. I just haven’t been on a horse in a while. And I’m not sure I’m dressed for it.” Rose gestured to the flowered dress and cardigan she had on. “Except, of course, for the boots.” She’d pulled on her favorite burgundy cowgirl boots.
He adjusted the brim of his Stetson and smiled down at her. “Silver won’t mind if you go as-is.”
Nor, apparently, would her date.
Rose thought about changing into jeans, too. She decided against it, given the wardrobe crisis she’d already had, trying to decide what to wear tonight. Her floral sundress with the fitted bodice and full knee-length skirt was long enough to afford her modesty, even in the saddle. The problem would be protecting her bare inner thighs from rubbing against the saddle as she rode.
“Just give me a minute.”
She raced back up the stairs. She plucked a pair of rose-colored yoga shorts from her bureau, kicked off her cowgirl boots and shimmied her way into the form-fitting knit.
Satisfied the hem of her dress fell a good four inches beneath the hem of her yoga shorts, she tugged her boots on and raced back down the stairs.
Clint surveyed her head to toe, his gaze lingering on the low neckline of her dress before returning to her eyes. He slid his arm beneath her elbow. “I was hoping you wouldn’t change the dress for jeans.”
A comment which just confirmed he liked his women feminine. Just as she liked her men big, strong and tall.
She batted her eyelashes at him flirtatiously. “Don’t like the way I look in denim?”
He shrugged and watched her move through the downstairs, checking door locks and turning on lights, so it wouldn’t be pitch black when they returned. “I wouldn’t say that.”
She turned sideways. The skirt of her dress brushed him as she passed.
He smiled down at her and fell in step beside her as they walked back to the foyer. “I just like the way you look in this dress.” Once again, his hand was on her, this time pressed to the middle of her spine.
She flushed, heating at his light touch, and they hadn’t really started their date yet. “Which is what...?”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “All soft and womanly.”
Rose sucked in a breath. “I probably should tell you that lines like that don’t work on me.”
“What about this, then?” He used his leverage on her elbow to turn her toward him, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. He drew back just far enough to peer into her eyes. “Does this work?”
More than you know.
Trying not to think how good it felt to be going out with him—even if it was only the payoff to a fun wager—Rose smiled. “Well, cowboy, if we don’t get a move on, it’ll be dark before we ever get wherever it is we’re going.” Rose plucked her cowgirl hat from the hat rack next to the door, plopped it on her head, then donned her purse and lacy cardigan sweater as he led the way outside. “Where are we headed?” she asked, locking the door behind her and reveling in the warmth of the late spring evening.
“Another surprise.” He slipped his hands around her waist to give her a chivalrous boost up she didn’t really need but appreciated just the same. With him still supporting her, she grasped the saddle horn and swung her leg over Silver’s back. She settled in the saddle, then tugged the edges of her skirt downward, tucking it modestly around her thighs.
He climbed onto his stallion, and they set off at a leisurely pace, cutting across her property and her neighbors’. Once they were in open terrain, they let their horses pick up the speed. For a while, there was no need for conversation. It was enough just to canter across wildflower-strewn meadows and take in the experience. Eventually they reached one of the two meandering streams on Clint’s property. They dismounted and led their horses to the water. Clint had plastic bottles of lemonade in his saddlebag for them.
He offered her a silent toast. Together they drank deeply. Aware she hadn’t felt this free or been this relaxed in a long time, Rose leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree. The sun was a golden ball dipping slowly through the pink-streaked sky toward the horizon.
“So this is your idea of the perfect date,” she teased.
He came closer. “The Double Creek is one of my favorite places in the world.”
Rose could see why. The thousand-acre ranch might be small by some standards, but it was both gorgeous and rugged, with wide-open spaces and moderately rolling terrain. In the distance, they could see the neatly plowed rows that now delineated the acres of blackberry bushes. It was as beautiful and scenic as a Napa Valley vineyard.
She pointed the rim of her bottle toward the fields. “You know, it might be a good idea to film that from here. For the commercial. Up close, you can’t really tell how far the crop stretches. The view would be a good sales tool for the berry picker...”
“Let’s not talk business tonight,” he said in a gently chiding tone.
Heart skittering in her chest, she turned back to face him, wishing he didn’t look so damn good. “What do you want to talk about, then?”
He made the face her kids did when confronted with just the thought of ever eating brussels sprouts again, then flashed her a crooked smile. “Anything—everything—else.”
She laughed, and he leaned in closer and kissed her. Emotion bubbled up inside her, relentless and undeniable.
Aware her pulse was racing as if he had just made love to her, Rose splayed a hand across his hard chest.
He drew back, his gaze tender. “Hungry?”
For you. Rose nodded, another ribbon of desire curling through her. “I am.”
His big hand captured hers, and he pressed a kiss to the back of it. Her insides fluttered.
“Me, too.” He grinned, charismatic as ever, then continued huskily, “So what do you say we go on back to my place?”
* * *
IT WAS DARK when they reached the stables. Rose helped Clint unsaddle and care for their horses. Once their mounts were given food and water and settled in for the night, the two of them headed up to the Double Creek ranch house.
The aroma of rich and savory beef hit them the moment they walked in the door.
Was this how it felt to have someone take care of you? she wondered. How he felt when he came to her place for dinner?
He smiled at her reaction. Plucked the Western hat off her head, then the Stetson from his, and set both on the hall table along with her purse. Hand beneath her elbow, he steered her toward the kitchen. The breakfast room table had been set—beautifully. A bottle of wine, a loaf of bread and a slow-cooker full of the richest, meatiest-looking beef stew she had ever seen sat on the counter. Rose calculated the effort. “You really went all out,” she murmured, impressed.
He tossed her a fond look, then went to wash his hands. “If you only get one date with a lady—” he winked “—you’ve got to make it count.”
Already tingling with anticipation, she joined him at the kitchen sink, taking in the heat and strength and sheer masculinity of him. How was it he always smelled so good? Like fresh air and sunshine. And man. How was it he always made her want him so much?
Deciding it didn’t matter as long as they had a reason to keep
seeing each other again, she turned to face him, her hip bumping his in the process. “We could always make another bet.” In the one-day-at-a-time vein...
He quirked a brow and countered with comically exaggerated seriousness, “But then I’d have to let you win.”
She let out a low laugh, loving it when he teased her this way. Like he wanted to capture her heart, as much as she secretly wanted to capture his. “Why?”
Dark eyes twinkling, he lifted his hand to her face and let his thumb rasp gently over her cheekbone to her lower lip. “Because it wouldn’t be fair, taking advantage of you two times in a row.”
Already aching for another kiss, she demanded, “Who says I couldn’t win on my own?”
“All right.” He led her toward the table, held out her chair and waited until she slipped into it. “What do you want to wager?”
Rose watched him put dinner on the table. A serving bowl full of the rich and meaty stew. The bread and butter. A baby lettuce salad, redolent with fresh blackberries, sliced pears and pecans.
“Something about work this time,” she suggested, thinking that had to be safer, emotionally, than this. An evening that was beginning to feel all too romantic—and real.
Handing her a bottle of what appeared to be homemade vinaigrette, he groaned in dismay.
“Hey, I haven’t said what the payoff is yet!”
He slipped his sport coat over the back of the chair and rolled up his sleeves to just below the elbow. “I’d still prefer it to be about our personal life.”
She knew that. She also knew what he could accomplish when he was really and truly motivated.
And given how much he seemed to loathe anything connected with the berry picker, the advertising team, or harvesting...
Wheels turning, she let her gaze roam over his pristine white Western shirt and form-fitting dark denim jeans before lingering on his broad shoulders. His clothes were nice, if unremarkable. But there was nothing ordinary about the body beneath them. He was solid muscle from head to toe. Taut and big and capable in that unutterably masculine way.
Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples) Page 11
