Daddy with a Deadline (7 page)

Annie’s curiosity was killing her. She’d love to see the transformation of the nursery. She’d always hated the salmon paint, although she’d never tell Trent.

Could she sneak upstairs and peek at the room without him seeing her? She laughed. Since she weighed as much as a baby elephant, sneaking wasn’t an option.

An idea dawned. She’d take him coffee. Then he wouldn’t know she was so curious about the nursery walls that she couldn’t wait another minute.

Trent took a long swipe with the roller. Fortunately his full-steam-ahead approach worked and Annie hadn’t banned him from the house. Or had him arrested for breaking and entering. That spunky woman would stop at nothing to get her way!

He hadn’t heard a sound from downstairs in over an hour and basked in the silence. At this rate he’d finish in an hour or so and head back to the ranch. He smiled, realizing he was making a dent in fulfilling Brad’s request. And if Annie delivered boys, they would have eventually resented their mother for making them sleep in a girly bedroom.

“Wow, wow, wow!” Trent jumped at the sound of Annie’s voice. He turned to see her standing in the doorway, holding two mugs of coffee.

One look at the woman and he almost said “wow” himself! For the first time he could remember, a radiant smile lit her face. A pink knit top outlined her sweetly rounded body, and white shorts showed off a stunning pair of legs. Trent hadn’t been privileged to see them before. And like everything else about the woman, they took his breath away.

“You’ve finished two walls already. The room looks so bright. So cheerful.” For once, the woman was smiling. And her eyes shone with delight.

“You’re OK with the color? You wouldn’t rather stick with the salmon?”

“Nope. Yellow’s good.”

Annie had just tossed crumbs of approval his way. Trent could get used to that. Hopefully the truce would last till he finished painting.

“Glad you approve, ma’am. Oops, sorry. Last time I called you ‘ma’am’ you nearly bit my head off.”

She shrugged. “Sorry about that. I’m a bit edgy these days.”

A bit edgy?
he thought. Being around Annie was like holding a lit match within inches of spilled gasoline. “You have a lot on your mind,” he said.

Anything to keep the peace a little longer.

Annie continued gazing at the walls. The look on her face reminded Trent of Alice discovering Wonderland. She turned to face him. “Do you have another one of those thingamabobs?”

“What thingamabobs?”

“You know. Those little round paint brushes.”

“You mean rollers?” He frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to help.”

Uh-oh. The truce was over.

Trent suppressed a groan. He was a loner. A man who worked by himself. And he liked it that way.

His frown deepened. “Don’t you have other things to do?”

As usual, the woman ignored him. She spotted his extra roller and made a beeline toward it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve used a roller.” She shrugged. “No time like the present.”

To Trent’s chagrin, the impulsive woman upended his brand-new roller and jammed it, sideways, into the bucket. When she removed it, globs of yellow paint dripped all over his new tarp!

“Whoa, lady! Hold it right there!”

She turned those enticing eyes his way while the soggy roller made more splotches on his tarp. “Uh-oh. Did I do something wrong?”

Her gaze stopped Trent cold. “Not really,” he lied. “But there’s a better way.”

And there was a better way. It was called painting alone.

Trent laid down his roller, took the spare, and eased the excess paint into the tray he’d been using. “Fill your roller in the tray rather than the bucket. You can distribute the paint more evenly.”

She watched attentively and nodded. “Gotcha. Where do I start?”

Arguing with the woman was like facing an army single-handedly. And would only rile her up. A riled-up Annie Samuels was more trouble than Wildfire on a bad day.

Trent sighed. His greatest fear was sending her into premature labor—a crisis neither of them was prepared to face. Against his better judgment, he dipped his extra roller into the paint tray and handed it to Annie. After all, it was her nursery. If she messed it up, she’d have to live with it. Not him.

Annie held the roller and stood staring at the wall like someone in a trance. “Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Apply the paint.”

She lifted the roller and turned to look at him. Question marks leaped from her eyes.

Trent went to Annie and slipped his arms around her. As he gripped the roller, he breathed in her scent. It reminded him
of lilacs after a rain shower. The freshest and most delightful fragrance he could imagine.

He swallowed hard. Being this close to Annie made the room spin and scrambled every thought in his brain. He tried to help her guide the roller down the wall. In spite of his efforts, it zigged severely to the left.

Concentrate
, he told himself.
On painting, not on Annie.

Together they applied several broad stripes of paint. She giggled with pleasure as she observed their shaky progress. The sound of Annie’s laughter was as intriguing as her perfume. It rang out like wind chimes in a breeze.

Trent was sinking fast. “Think you can fly solo?” he asked, hoping she didn’t hear the huskiness in his voice.

If he didn’t move away from the woman pronto, he’d do something stupid. Like turn her to face him and kiss her senseless. And this was fast becoming the world’s worst paint job.

Annie pursed her lips and nodded. “I can take it from here. Thanks for the lesson.”

“My pleasure.”

Trent stepped back into safer territory. He yanked his hanky from his pocket and mopped his forehead. Touching Annie always made him crazy. Until now he’d only touched her hand. So feeling her sweet body close to his set off major alarm bells in his brain.
Avoid bodily contact
, he told himself.
At all costs.

Annie took several swipes and applied the paint with relative success. When she glanced back for his approval, he nodded. “Good job.”

Even if it wasn’t, there was no way she’d get another lesson. Brad’s widow tantalized him enough from a distance. Up close, she was dynamite.

Being close to Annie stirred feelings Trent had spent years suppressing. He’d loved Dawn and thought he knew her. What a fool he’d been. She hadn’t loved him at all. She’d used him for her own purposes.

Trent didn’t think Annie would behave that way. But he’d believed in Dawn and trusted her with all his heart. Obviously, judging women wasn’t his talent. So he was better off alone.

To Trent’s surprise, he and Annie worked well together. He cut in the baseboards and ceilings, and she did the rolling. While he tried to keep his distance, the small space made that difficult. And even with her back to him, Annie’s presence filled the room. And made him as nervous as a squirrel chased by a mongrel.

An hour later he asked, “Am I wearing you out?”

“Nope. This is fun.”

“You’re getting the hang of it. I can tell from the paint globs on your nose and elbow.”

She smiled. “My kindergarteners love to finger-paint. I put aprons on them and tell them to put their heart into painting. Now I know how that feels.”

“That’s why I love training horses. I’m totally consumed by the work.”

“And I’m sure you’re very good at it.”

Hearing Annie compliment him was a pleasant turn of events. One he knew wouldn’t last long.

She placed her roller in the tray and glanced at the walls. “We’re almost finished. Two people make the job move faster.”

She looked bedraggled now. Her curls were drooping and the paint streaks on her arms had gone forth and multiplied.

“Put your feet up while I finish,” Trent suggested. Besides, he was more than ready to work alone.

“I’ll have fresh-squeezed lemonade ready when you come downstairs.”

“Sounds great.”

When Annie left the room, she took the magnetic force along with her. Once again the nursery was just a room. An ordinary room.

Like it’s supposed to be, he reminded himself.

Trent took a deep breath as normalcy returned. He secured the lids on the paint cans and gathered his supplies. While he felt good about trying to fulfill Brad’s wishes, his reaction to Annie troubled him.

Even if he was looking for a woman—which he wasn’t—Annie Samuels was not fair game. She’d been widowed less than a year and was a few weeks away from motherhood. And she was his deceased friend’s wife.

He wiped his brow and took a steadying breath. Maybe today’s reaction was a fluke. He hoped so. The only way to survive four weeks of this assignment was to stay detached. Detachment had been his goal since the day Dawn left.

And it still was.

Annie squeezed fresh lemons into a pitcher and added water, sugar, and ice. Then she sat down at her kitchen table and buried her face in her hands. She felt physically and emotionally spent. And it wasn’t just the painting that brought this about.

She heard water running in the upstairs bathroom. Trent was probably cleaning his rollers and brushes. She’d promised him lemonade and she would deliver. But the sooner the man left, the better.

Annie had dealt with more emotions this afternoon than she could count. Anger when Trent showed up unannounced and stormed her house like a fireman spotting a blaze. Pure joy when she first saw the nursery’s yellow walls. She had to blink back tears, knowing her babies would have the room she’d dreamed of.

And she had Trent to thank.

Other emotions tugged at her as well. When Trent slipped his arms around her and grasped the roller handle, feelings bubbled up inside Annie. Man-woman kind of feelings. The excitement of connecting with a man who attracts you.

His musky scent had made her light-headed. And when he spoke, his deep, strong voice reverberated in her ear. Annie had almost forgotten how to breathe when Trent put his arms around her.

She shook off the sensation that still lingered. Hadn’t she made one catastrophic mistake when she fell in love with Brad? A mistake that caused her much pain and sadness. The babies were the one really good outcome from their disastrous marriage.

Now she added embarrassment to her list of emotions. She barely knew this man, and she’d let her feelings run wild. Her reaction was inexcusable.

Tears stung her eyes, but she couldn’t cry. Not yet. She had to give her cowboy benefactor some lemonade and send him back to the ranch.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Annie blotted her eyes with a tissue and squared her shoulders. She would survive this experience and send him on his way.

Trent made several trips back and forth to the truck. He couldn’t wait to head for the ranch, but Annie had promised him lemonade and it would be rude to turn it down.

“Annie?” he called.

“In the kitchen.”

As he walked in, she waited at the table. “Sit down and have some lemonade.”

He pulled out a chair and joined her. He took a long drink of the cool, refreshing beverage. “That hits the spot,” he said. “Thanks for fixing it.”

“You’re most welcome.”

He could hear the coolness in her tone and eyed her cautiously. “Are you still mad at me? Because I barged in without calling?”