Lone Star Rancher (7 page)

Although she'd never lived on a ranch, she knew the work involved. Clyde had tagged the heifers he wanted to keep and used a marker to write the numbers in their ears in case they lost the tags, which looked like flashy bright orange earrings each time the heifers flicked their ears.

A rancher had to be on the lookout for signs of illness, too—flies, parasites, worms, pink eye, tangles with thorns and barbed wire. Then there were mad cow disease and interesting things like that.

She returned to the shed after he left in the pickup. It took several minutes to move items so she could get the rocker free. During the process, she discovered a magazine
holder and a neat chest with eight drawers, both carved similarly to the table. It was like striking gold.

“Wow,” she murmured.

Carrying her treasures to the stripping area, she worked happily through the day, removing layers of grime and old varnish, then stopped to take Smoky for the promised walk late in the afternoon.

On an impulse, she picked a bouquet of flowers and carried them back to the house. She found the vase Clyde's mom had used and placed the arrangement on the dining table.

After a hot soak to smooth the kinks out of her back—from now on, she would stop and stretch for five minutes out of every hour while she worked—she dressed in black slacks and a black peasant blouse embroidered with golden squash blossoms around the neck and sleeves.

On an impulse, she decided to prepare dinner, just to show Clyde what a country girl could do, if she chose.

 

Clyde stopped at the gate and sniffed like an animal scenting trouble on the air. From the house came the delectable odors of food. Hot food.

His mouth actually watered. Other than the times his parents visited, a hot meal, ready when he came in, wasn't the norm in his household. He rushed to the house with the eagerness of a schoolboy looking for a treat.

“Hi, you're just in time,” Jessica greeted him when he came in the back door. “Dinner in fifteen minutes. Will that give you enough time to shower?”

“Uh, yes.”

Because his heart was dancing around like a whirling dervish, he frowned at her. Her smile faded, but she gave him one of her level, don't-mess-with-me stares.

He wondered how she could remain so cool while his blood heated to boiling. Bounding up the steps two at a
time, he berated himself for the eagerness, for the desire raging through him and for a longing he couldn't describe.

While he showered, he reminded himself of all the reasons he was
not
going to get involved with her.

His mind heard, but his libido didn't listen.

Back downstairs, he found the formal table set with colorful dishes his mother had brought back from a trip to one of the flea markets in San Antonio. A vase, painted with a macaw and jungle flowers, was filled with flowers and held pride of place in the center of the table.

“Very nice,” he managed to mutter past the strange obstacle in his throat.

Jessica, he noted, was playing the role of domesticated lady of the house to perfection.

“Everything is ready,” she announced, bringing a basket of hot rolls to the table.

He suppressed the urgent and nearly overpowering need to kiss her on the back of the neck—right at that delicate spot below her ear. Instead he gallantly held her chair, then took the other seat at the end of the table.

“I prepared extra in case Miles came in, but I haven't seen any sign of him,” she said. “This being Friday night, I thought he might, uh, go to town.”

“We don't date during roundup,” Clyde informed her.

“Or any other time?”

Those bright blue eyes dissected him while she waited for his answer. He forced a smile. “Miles has a string of females in three counties waiting for his call. I—”

He paused, not sure how much he wanted to disclose.

Sure, he dated some. The new librarian at the local high school. She'd married the football coach last Christmas after explaining that seeing
him
was a dead-end affair.

A pretty waitress at Emma's Café, although he was leery of waitresses after his youthful encounter and heart-
break. However, she'd run off with a cowboy last spring. It must have been love at first sight.

“I don't go out much,” he concluded. “Too busy.”

Too wise, some part of him added. Yeah. He'd learned the hard way about trusting his heart to a woman, especially one like Jessica. She looked like an exotic flower, just waiting to be plucked. And caressed. And kissed until they were both breathless.

“Aren't you hungry?” she asked.

Setting his jaw, he forked a tender piece of chicken onto his plate, added a baked potato and a mixture of vegetables. He recognized fresh herbs from the garden whipped into a cream sauce that was part of the veggie dish. It was different.

“Delicious,” he told her—and meant it—after the meal. “Maybe you can get a job as a chef in a fancy restaurant after you retire from modeling.”

“Well,” she said with surprising modesty, “I've been studying finance with an eye toward being a certified advisor. I realized I had to learn how to handle money when I started earning big bucks, so I started taking courses every chance I got.”

“You should talk to my father, then. He might need someone—” He stopped when she shook her head.

“I want to move back to Texas,” she told him.

“You could open a modeling school,” he suggested and wondered why he insisted on seeing her as a celebrity.

“Or a furniture refinishing business. That was what I was thinking of doing before Violet talked me into applying for a scholarship to the university where she was going.”

“You're kidding,” he said in open disbelief.

“Nope. Mom and I really enjoy taking something old and making it new and usable again. She and Dad have an
antique shop in Austin. Maybe I should go into business with them.”

He shook his head. “I can't picture that.”

In fact, he couldn't find a middle ground between the lanky, shy girl she'd once been and the poised model who'd traveled all over the world and had a man so obsessed, she'd had to hide out to escape him.

“Did you see how lovely the table turned out?” she asked. “I think a natural stain to bring out the golden tones of the oak would be nice. Do you prefer oil- or water-based sealer? Mom says oil is the best, but water is so much easier to clean up.”

“The water-based stuff seems to work fine.”

“I thought so, too.”

Finished, they took their dishes to the kitchen and, together, put them away. He'd never done domestic things with a woman before. It felt…pleasant.

They returned to the table with fresh pear tarts she'd found in the freezer and baked. When he finished that, he felt full and satisfied. Almost.

He forced his mind away from images of how they might sate the sexual hunger that hummed through them. He wondered if she was aware of it as much as he was.

“Look, Smoky is chasing a bee,” she said, peering out the window. “I hope for his sake he doesn't catch it.” She laughed as the dog leaped into the air after the bumblebee.

Clyde liked the way her eyes crinkled at the corners and the way two little lines bracketed her mouth. He liked the soft, buttery sound of her laughter, the bright intelligence of her eyes that reminded him of an alert robin hopping about the lawn on a perfect spring day, the way her scent drifted to him each time she moved.

He knew just where she wore perfume. At the vulnerable spot below her ear, at her throat and between her
breasts. In the crook of her arms, behind her knees. On the delicate Venus mound that led to the sweetest treasure he'd ever known.

Hunger surged to a roaring inferno. He wanted to kiss her, to sweep her into his arms like a hero in a melodrama and carry her up the stairs to his room. He wanted to keep her with him all night and make love whenever they woke, no matter the hour.

Instead, he cleared his throat and stood. “Excuse me,” he said, “I have things to do. The dinner was nice, but it isn't necessary for you to cook, since we never know when we'll get in.”

“Well,” she said reasonably, “as long as I'm cooking for me, I can fix more. That way you or Miles can heat it in the microwave when you do get a chance to eat.”

Her smile reminded him of things that would never be, like those youthful dreams of having a great love and a good marriage the way his parents did. “We don't have time to play admirers of your many skills,” he said in a snarl.

The pleasure fled from her eyes and was replaced with something like shock. It quickly disappeared, too. Behind a shield of perfect composure, she nodded. “I didn't mean you were obligated to…to…”

A frown nicked a tiny line between her eyebrows as her voice trailed off.

“I'll take care of the dessert plates,” she ended.

Nodding, he headed for his room and the computer, where a stack of data waited to be entered on each breeding cow in the herd. That should keep him busy for hours…and away from potential trouble.

J
essica sliced carrots over the bowl of lettuce, added a small cucumber and green onions, then mixed the salad with a vinaigrette dressing. The telephone rang just as she plopped down on the stool at the counter.

Since it wasn't her house, she let the answering machine pick up the call.

“Jessica? Are you there?” she heard Violet ask.

She rushed to the phone. “Hello? Violet? Where in the world are you?”

Her friend laughed. “I'm not sure. Somewhere in the ocean on a cruise ship that looks like a wedding cake.”

“When your mother told me you actually did take a cruise, I was flabbergasted. I didn't believe it when you said you were thinking seriously of going off on one.”

Violet's sigh came through loud and clear. “I wanted to get away, all by myself, and just think.”

“I know what you mean,” Jessica said. “It's been wonderful here. Quiet. Peaceful.”

She felt a bit uncomfortable at the lie. Well, it had been peaceful around the house the past week. The turmoil had all been inside her.

Clyde had swapped jobs with Miles and stayed in the back country rounding up strays while Miles sorted cattle and loaded the sales stock onto the huge trucks that came regularly every other afternoon.

“Are my brothers treating you right?” Violet demanded.

“Of course. Miles and I have an ongoing game of gin rummy nearly every night. Since I'm ahead, he won't quit.”

“He likes to win,” Violet said, laughter in her voice. “Uh, where's Clyde?”

“Out in the back forty.”

“Mmm, usually he does the wheeling and dealing with the buyers, also the computer stuff. Miles likes to be out in the wide-open spaces.”

Jessica pressed her lips firmly together, suppressing a need to tell her best friend all that had happened between her and the oldest brother of the triplets.

“So what are you doing to keep yourself busy?”

Jessica enthusiastically launched into her great discovery in the shed and the results of her efforts on the furniture. “It really came out nice. Miles and I put the table and chest in the foyer, and the rocking chair and magazine rack in the empty room.”

“Mmm, you're sounding very domesticated,” Violet said.

“I'd forgotten what fun Mom and I used to have with our recycled ‘treasures,' as we called them. I think there's enough furniture in the shed to make an office for the ranch in the spare room, if your brothers would like that. Miles has given his approval, but I haven't had a chance to ask Clyde yet.”

“Sounds nice. Clyde could then move the computer and files out of his bedroom.”

“Uh, yes.” Jessica had gone upstairs to search the shelves for a new book to read one night last weekend and spotted Clyde working in his room through the open door.

His bedroom was nearly a replica of hers, except the bed appeared to be larger. Images of sharing it with him had driven her down the steps and outside until her blood had cooled and the lightness had disappeared from her brain.

“I'm about to forget why I called. Have you had any calls from our favorite stalker?” Violet asked.

“None. I've hardly been off the ranch since I arrived.” She realized it was Friday and it had been exactly two weeks ago that she'd arrived in a driving rainstorm. She'd been at the ranch only three days when she and Clyde had…

She hesitated over a descriptive term and mentally changed “made love” to “had that episode at the lake.”

“I can't tell you what a relief it's been not to have to deal with Roy and his obsession,” she concluded.

“Have you seen your parents?”

“No. I'm following our plan. I do miss them, though,” Jessica admitted. “I'm thinking of moving back here.”

“You're not!” Violet said in surprise.

“Yes, I am. It's time we were settling down, old friend,” she said, reminding Violet that they weren't getting any younger. They'd discussed this very thing when they'd turned thirty and decided they should start seriously looking for their dream mates.

“Who with?” Violet asked glumly.

“I don't know. I do know I want my kids to know their grandparents on both sides.” She laughed softly. “So I'll have to marry a Texas man and settle here.”

“Hey, we were going to raise our kids together.”

“Well, you'll have to find a Texas man, too. Hold on,” she said to her friend, hearing something behind her.

Clyde stood on the threshold of the back door, glaring at her in his best Heathcliff imitation. She wondered how much of her conversation he'd heard.

“Your brother's here,” she told Violet, ignoring his moody scowl. “You want to talk to him?”

“I suppose I'll have to,” her friend said, pretending to be reluctant to do so.

Jessica handed over the phone.

“Hey, where are you?” Clyde asked. He rummaged around in a kitchen drawer until he found the item he was looking for, an air needle to blow up the Perez kid's basketball.

As his sister told him of her cruise and the ports she'd visited, he was intensely aware of Jessica at the counter. She ate from a large bowl of salad, her eyes on the food as if this was the only thing that occupied her thoughts.

Being anywhere near her drove him right up the wall!

That was why he'd forced Miles to change places with him. He'd needed to get away from the house this past week. Not that it had helped a whole lot. His every thought, waking or sleeping, was of the woman who now silently ate and totally ignored his presence.

“Are you keeping an eye on Jessica?” his sister asked.

“Yes.”

“How?” she demanded. “Jessica said you were directing the roundup while Miles stayed at the house.”

“Well, he's watching over her. I explained the problem to him.”

“You promised you would do it.”

Other than his mom when she was on one of her crusades, he'd never known anyone as stubborn as his kid sister. “She's fine, isn't she?” he demanded.

“So far.” Her tone changed, becoming pensive. “I lis
tened to the tapes of Roy's calls. It was spooky. He truly is obsessed.”

“Yeah, well, everything is fine here. Are you having a good time?”

“I suppose.” She sighed. “I'm rethinking my life.”

A ripple of concern went through him. This wasn't like the sister he knew. “I thought medicine was your life.”

“It is. It was. People die. That makes it hard.”

“You can't blame yourself. You do the best you can. That's all anyone can do.”

“I know.” Her sigh was despondent. “This call is costing a fortune, so I'll hang up. Take care of Jessica. And yourself.”

After he replaced the phone, he paused and checked his house guest over visually. There was a light tan on her face and arms from the hours she'd spent outside. She'd helped at the egg barn for three or four hours each afternoon of the past week, until the Perez kids got home from school.

Miles had also reported that each morning she'd devoted herself to refinishing the furniture and the pieces were now in place in the house. There were flowers in a vase on the windowsill over the sink, too.

The ranch house was becoming very homey. He scoffed silently. As if it made any difference to him. She'd be gone soon and his life would get back to normal.

“Miles has gone into San Antonio,” he now said to their guest. “He'll probably spend the night.”

She nodded as if she knew this.

“I have some work to do on the tractor. I'll be out at the hay barn for a couple of hours.” He hesitated. “Will you be okay here alone?”

“Of course.” She gave him one of her charming smiles.

His heart lurched around like a dizzy boxer who'd taken one punch too many. He nodded grimly and headed outside.

Jessica put her bowl and fork in the dishwasher, then leaned against the sink. Outside, Clyde called to someone. When the Perez boy came forward, the two males went to the barn where Clyde used a compressor to blow up a flat basketball.

The teenager bounced the ball a couple of times, smiled and headed for his place with a wave. Clyde bent over the big tractor that served many purposes on the ranch.

She watched him work on it for a long time, wishing she felt poised enough to go talk to him while he did. With Miles, she wouldn't have hesitated. They shared an easy relationship that had enlivened the evenings while they played cards and joked with each other.

Unfortunately there was no spark, only a pleasing friendship that worked for both of them. After thinking about this, she gave up trying to figure out why one person appealed to another, and went upstairs.

She'd showered earlier, after working in the egg barn all afternoon. She and Cimma Perez, who was on her feet again, had formed a good team at cleaning and checking the eggs while Clinton kept them in fresh supply.

After changing into a nightgown, she climbed into bed, opened the book she'd borrowed and read of the “true life” adventures of a cowboy who'd lived at the turn of the twentieth century.

At ten, she closed the book and turned out the light, fairly certain the adventures had been true only in the mind of the man who'd claimed to live them. Ah, well, everyone had dreams.

Clyde, she noted, hadn't come in the house yet. Before he'd changed places with Miles, he'd been up in the mornings before she rose and hadn't come in until she was in bed.

He probably made sure her light was out before he dared creep inside and up the stairs. Did he think she was wait
ing to pounce on him or lure him to her room with her deadly charms?

Ha! He could think again!

She closed her eyes and determinedly counted sheep until she heard his quiet steps on the stairs. Then she fell into a restful sleep.

 

Jessica was startled upon seeing Clyde still in the kitchen when she went down Monday morning. “Hello,” she said, tingly and uneasy at his presence.

“Good morning,” he said and resumed reading the paper.

She ate her usual sparse meal, then settled at the counter with a fresh cup of coffee and selected a section of the paper to read. Thirty minutes passed in silence.

When he put the paper down, she did, too. She glanced outside. Clouds were on the horizon, dark and heavy gray. The weather channel had predicted a storm front would be in today.

“Looks as if the storm is on its way,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“Aren't you heading out to the far pastures again?”

“No.”

At his short answer, she nodded calmly.

“I'll have a few days off while the crew is doing some fence repairs before starting on a new sector,” he said.

Miles had explained they used a temporary crew to help with the roundup each fall and the calf count each spring, but normally the brothers and a couple of cowboys who lived on the other side of the ranch did the rest of the work.

“What were you planning to do today?” Clyde asked.

She shrugged. “Read, I suppose, and hide from the housekeeper this morning. I was going to work on some furniture for the ranch office—”

“What ranch office?”

“The one Miles and I planned this past week.” She grinned at her host's frown. “The room on the other side of the dining area was empty, so I put the rocking chair and magazine rack in there. Miles realized it would be a good place for the ranch records so he and Steven wouldn't have to invade your room each time they needed to check on something.”

The black, nearly straight eyebrows rose slightly. “That's a good idea.”

Jessica nearly fell off the stool when he smiled.

“You finished?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Then let's get cracking. Today will be a good day to work inside.”

To her amazement, he led the way upstairs and into his room. The bed wasn't exactly made, but the plaid comforter had been fluffed over the covers. She could detect bumps under it as if the sheets had been smoothed carelessly.

Under the windows along the north wall was a desk and two file cabinets and another, taller cabinet, its doors open to reveal several pieces of equipment that went with the computer on the desk.

“Let's take the drawers out of the file cabinets and move them first, then I'll disconnect the electronic stuff.”

He seemed enthusiastic about the task, so she pitched in and helped. Instead of letting her carry the drawers neatly filled with manila folders and hanging files, he brought in a dolly from the storage shed. Together they loaded it and gently eased the dolly down the steps and into the room now designated as the office. That was where the housekeeper, a woman she didn't know, found them.

After a quick introduction to the older woman, Clyde turned to Jessica. “Where do you want the file cabinets?”

“Here,” she said, going to the back wall. “We'll put the
desk facing the windows, so you…or whoever is working,” she added, “can see the barns and pastures.”

He nodded.

It took a couple of hours to get everything down the steps and into the room, then a couple more for him to reconnect the computer parts and check everything out.

She removed a calendar and a dry erase board from the wall of his bedroom and put them on the inside of the doors of the computer cabinet. “There,” she told him, “these will be handy, yet out of sight.”

He glanced up from the monitor, where flashing numbers indicated a file defragmentation check was taking place. “Good.” His grin was one of satisfaction. “Thanks for your help. I've been meaning to do this for ages, but…”

At his shrug, she said, “You never found the time.”

“None of us made the time,” he corrected. He looked at his watch. “It's one o'clock. We haven't had lunch.”

“I'll fix sandwiches,” she volunteered, then recalled he didn't want her doing anything for him.