Michael's father (3 page)

Their eyes clashed, hers angry, his determined. Colleen looked away first.

"It hurts," she muttered, sounding so much like a little girl that it was all Kel could do to keep from snatching her up in his arms and telling her that she never had to do anything that hurt again.

"I know," he said quietly. "But it's not forever."

"It feels like it." She sighed and shrugged lightly, indifference slipping into her eyes. "I'll keep going to therapy." Her tone made it clear that she was doing it to please him, not because she believed it was doing her leg any good.

"Good." Kel didn't care why she went, just as long as she went. He turned to the neglected eggs.

A few minutes later, the two of them sat down to breakfast. Ordinarily, Kel would have been out of the house at dawn but he'd lingered this morning so that he'd be here when Megan Roarke arrived. He supposed he could have left it to Colleen to greet her, but since he'd been the one to hire her, it seemed like he should be here. At least that was the excuse he'd given himself, he admitted ruefully.

**I don't see why we couldn't have just managed on our own while Grade was gone," CoUeen said, interrupting his thoughts.

*'Because I don't have time to clean house and you're not up to some of the heavier work."

**I can clean the house," she protested. ''I'm not a—" She broke off, flushing as she realized what she'd been about to say.

"Cripple?" He lifted one brow as he finished the sentence for her.

"I can clean the house," she repeated, refusing to respond to his baiting look.

"What about cooking?" He picked up a slice of bacon, her contribution to the meal, and gave it a pointed look. Sooty black flakes drifted from it to his plate.

''You can't cook, either," she pointed out defensively, stirring her fork through the overcooked mass of scrambled eggs.

"But Megan Roarke can. At least she says she can."

Colleen considered that idea. "So you really didn't hire her to baby-sit me?"

"I hired her to keep us from starving to death." He got up from the table and picked up their barely

touched plates. "It's only for a week's trial, anyway. If she can't cook or can't take the isolation, we'll be on our own again. How about hot fudge sundaes for breakfast?" he asked, peering into the freezer for something to replace the inedible breakfast.

In the two days since her interview with Kel Bryan, Megan had almost managed to convince herself that it was a desire to work in a rural setting that had prompted her to push for this job.

But rural didn't even begin to describe the ranch's setting. Isolated. Vast. Empty. She couldn't find a single word to encompass it. The land stretched out on all sides, empty except for the long ribbon of highway. To the north and west, mountains thrust upward, peaks jagged against the sky.

The tumoff for the Lazy B was marked with a simple wooden sign, and Megan turned the car onto the gravel road. A couple of miles and several cattle guards later, the road curved around the shoulder of a low hill and ended in the midst of an assortment of buildings larger than some of the towns she'd seen recently.

She stopped the car in front of a big clapboard house and turned off the engine but stayed where she was, absorbing the scene in front of her. The house was painted white, the trim deep blue. The simple colors stood out like jewels against the buff-colored hiUs behind it. There was a wide front porch shaded by the overhanging roof, and narrow flower beds lined the porch and the short walkway.

In front of the house was a modest-sized lawn, crisp green with summer's early growth. After the landscape she'd just driven through, the rich green seemed almost painfully bright. A low spUt-rail fence marked the boundary between the lawn and the packed dirt and scrubby vegetation of the ranch yard.

It was a neat, tidy picture of a well run establishment, the kind of place where it would be a pleasure to work, a perfect place to spend the summer.

But Megan stayed where she was, her palms damp on the steering wheel. There was no mistaking the tall figure who'd stepped out onto the porch.

Kel Bryan.

The one—the on/y—reason she'd pushed so hard for this job. Now that she was here, she couldn't pretend otherwise. It hadn't been working in the country that had tempted her. It had been Kel Bryan's leanly muscled body and the shock waves set off by a simple handshake.

With a feeling that fate was looking over her shoulder, Megan reached for the door handle.

Kel had almost convinced himself that he'd imagined how attractive she was, that her hair hadn't been moonlit gold, that her legs hadn't been longer than they had any right to be. When he saw her again, he'd wonder what it was that had made her seem so extraordinary.

But as she slid out of the bright blue compact, all he could think of was that her legs were even longer than he'd remembered and her hair gleamed almost silver in the bright sunhght.

One look at iier and his jeans were suddenly too tight.

A week, he told himself. A week was all he'd agreed to. He could control himself for a week. She turned to shut the car door, giving him a perfect view of slender hips and a softly rounded bottom encased in faded denim that lovingly molded every curve.

Kel bit back a groan as the blood heated in his veins. She hadn't been on the property five minutes and he was ready to explode. A week in this condition and he'd end up a damned eunuch.

Megan felt her breath catch as Kel left the porch and came toward her. She'd almost convinced herself that he couldn't be as big as she'd remembered. Or as attractive. But the weakness in her knees told her that she'd been wrong. He was every bit as big, every bit as bone-meltingly good-looking as he'd been the first time they'd met.

Wearing jeans, a blue chambray shirt and a pair of scuffed black boots, he could have stepped right out of a cigarette commercial. In the sun, his dark hair had subtle red highlights, as did the thick mustache that covered his upper lip. He closed the distance between them in long, easy strides, a man comfortable with himself and his surroundings.

Megan thought about going to meet him but she wasn't entirely confident that her knees would support her. She wanted to believe that it was just nerves caused by the idea of starting a new job, but she'd never been that good at lying to herself.

"Have any trouble getting here?" Kel asked by way of greeting.

**No. The directions you gave me were very clear."

**Good." He stopped in front of her. Megan had to tilt her head to meet his eyes, those clear green eyes that had figured in her dreams these past two nights. Thinking of those dreams, she felt her color rise and hoped he'd attribute it to the warmth of the sun.

"Welcome to the Lazy B, Megan.'* Kel held out his hand. There was an imperceptible moment of hesitation before she placed her fingers in his. If she'd thought that remembered shock of awareness might have been her imagination, she'd been wrong.

It was like grabbing hold of a live wire, feeling the current run through her body, bringing every nerve ending to tingling life. And just as before, she saw that same awareness flare in Eel's eyes and knew he felt the spark between them.

"I wondered if you'd show up," he said abruptly.

"Are you sorry I did?" Megan was shocked to hear herself asking the question. Such bluntness wasn't like her at all. But then, this kind of sensual awareness was a new experience.

Was he sorry? Kel let his eyes drift to the soft fullness of her mouth as he debated the answer. He should be. And he very well might be later. But right now all he could think of was how her mouth would feel under his. And he knew, with unshakable certainty, that he was going to find out. Sometime before this week was up, he was going to taste Megan Roarke. He was going to have her in his arms, feel her mouth open

under his and see if she tasted half as sweet as she looked.

And if she kept looking at him like that, her eyes all smoky blue, as if she was wondering the same things about him, that moment just might come a hell of a lot sooner than it should.

**rm not sorry,*' he said, just when Megan had begun to think he wasn't going to answer the question. His fingers tightened over hers for an instant and then he released her and stepped back.

**Good." She could barely get the word past the knot in her throat. If she had an ounce of sense, she'd get into her car and leave this place, she thought as he turned toward the big house. But she was starting to think that she didn't have even an ounce of sense. At least not when it came to Kel Bryan.

She smelled of roses and sunshine, a soft, elusive scent that teased at the edge of his senses, making him want to move closer to discover its source. Had she dabbed perfume on the soft curve of her neck or dusted powder over her slender body when she stepped from the shower? If he were to sUde open the buttons of her mint green camp shirt and bury his face in her breasts, would they smell of roses?

And even if they did, would he be able to tell with the broken nose M^an would probably give him? Kel wondered ruefully. It had been a long time since he'd found his physical responses so difficult to control. He didn't like the feeling.

He should have called Carla while he was in Casper. There was nothing mystical about his reaction to

Megan Roarke. It was caused by nothing more than a healthy sex drive. An afternoon spent in Carta's wide bed, enjoying her uninhibited response, and his fingers wouldn't be itching to loosen the neat French braid that confined Megan's hair. He'd probably hardly even notice her slender body.

Yeah, right. And if he could convince himself of that one, maybe he should try selling himself some ocean-view property in Arizona.

Megan found herself having to speed her pace to keep up with Kel as he gave her a brisk tour of the house, showing her through her new—and possibly very temporary—domain. She had the distinct feeling that he was anxious to get the tour over with. And to get away from her?

Well, he couldn't be any more anxious to part company than she was. Kel Bryan's large presence set her nerve endings aj angle, making it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying, making it difficult to think clearly at all. Once he was gone, she'd go through the house on her own and figure out where things were. At the moment, she couldn't remember whether the door he'd just shut concealed the linen closet or a bathroom.

**I think that's about it," he said.

"It's a beautiful house." That much she'd managed to absorb.

"My grandfather built it for my grandmother. She came from a wealthy Virginia family, and he wanted her to have some of the comforts she was accustomed to, even out here in the back of beyond."

"She must have been very happy here."

"Not so's you'd notice." Kel's mouth twisted in a humorless smile. "She moved back to \^rginia when my father was four and never set foot west of the Mississippi again."

"It must have been difficult for your father, with parents on opposite ends of the country." . "Not really. He never saw her again. He was part of the mistake my grandmother put behind her."

"I think divorce is always hardest on the children," Megan said, remembering her own parents' divorce and the vicious quarrels that had come both before and after.

"A bad marriage is even harder."

Megan wondered if he spoke from experience. Had his parents' marriage been bad? His own? When he'd described the job to her, he'd said that he wasn't married, but that didn't mean he hadn't been in the past.

"I've got things I need to do," Kel said, glancing at his watch. "Do you have any questions?"

None that she had any right to ask, Megan shook her head.

"Colleen ought to be able to tell you anything you need to know," Kel said as they went downstairs. "Figure on four for dinner, including yourself."

Which answered the question of whether or not he expected her to eat with the family, Megan thought, watching him take a hat from the old-fashioned brass hat rack near the front door. He settled the gray Stetson on his head and turned to look at her.

Megan felt her breath catch a little as those green eyes raked over her. He looked as if he was about to say something but then changed his mind. Lifting his

hand in quick farewell, he turned and left. It wasn't until he was gone that she realized she'd been holding her breath. She released it on a sigh.

**Kel tends to have that effect on people.** Colleen Bryan's voice came from behind, and Megan turned to look at her.

"What effect?" she asked a little warily. Was her attraction to the girl's brother that obvious?

**Sort of a steamroller effect," Colleen said, limping out of the living room and into the big entryway. Kel had introduced her to his younger sister when she first arrived. She was struck again by the strong family resemblance between them. The reddish highlights in Kel's hair were deepened to a fiery auburn in his younger sister, and the stubborn set of Colleen's chin was a softer, feminine copy of her brother's iron jaw.

**Sort of a let-out-a-sigh-of-relief-when-he's-gone effect," Colleen added, stopping a few feet away.

"He is a little overwhelming," Megan agreed, though if she was honest, she'd have to admit that her sigh had been as much regret as relief.

**I bet he took you through the house at a dead run," Colleen said.

"Well ... it was a quick tour," Megan admitted.

"Kel's not the domestic sort." Colleen's smile was friendly but there was more sadness in her eyes than any girl her age should feel.

"I guess it's a good thing he can afford to hire a housekeeper, then."

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm not taking over the housework and cooking while Mrs. Ca-venaugh is gone this simmier." There was a hint of

challenge in the girl's eyes, which were the same vivid green as her brother's.

**I figured you weren't the domestic sort, eithCT."

**Oh." Colleen's chin came down a notch. "I'm not, but I thought you might have figured it was because of this." She gestured to her left leg.

"I noticed that you limp, if that's what you're getting at."