Pinch of Naughty (11 page)

Hugging him in her arms, she whimpered moans of satisfaction against his chest.

When he levered himself high enough for her to see him, he looked as groggy as she felt. He stared at her as though seeing her for the first time. Self-consciously, she brushed her damp hair from her forehead.

“Goddamn, Ellie, that was good. I didn’t slap on a condom before we… We need to talk—”

“No we don’t. Your lapse is of no concern, Mr. Burke. I’ve been found barren by the best physicians in Hartford.” Eleanor cut off his words, more shaken than she cared to admit when she escaped to the bathing room.

As she checked her appearance in the beveled mirror, her bottom lip quivered. She had to remind herself he was a scoundrel who was negotiating for cheap domestic help, not a man in love. For a moment she’d let herself slide into decadent forgetfulness.

Cyrus lay on the bed breathing hard, trying to figure out what had just happened. She’d turned to ice when he’d confessed his slip. Slip, hell—nothing had ever felt so right as when he nudged into her bare and naked the first time during the night. The second time had been premeditated bliss. Ellie brushed his attempted promise aside as if it mattered not at all.

He heard her go downstairs but lingered above, taking extra care shaving and getting ready for town. He missed her caustic remarks.
Now that I think about it, she’s been quiet for a couple of days. Not mad, just not her usual mouthy self.

In the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee and continued the conversation she’d brushed aside in the bedroom. “I doubt the doctors in the East are any more competent then the bankers and other nabobs. I’d take their findings with a load of salt, Ellie.”

“Then you better wear a condom when we have relations,” she said flatly, ignoring him when he got in her way.

“Might be too late for that,” he drawled, surprised at how much he wouldn’t mind if it were so. “It only takes once, you know. You don’t want a baby?” The thought made him frown inside.

“A child would be nice,” she said, elbowing him out of the way so she could ice down one of the boxes he’d just put in the wagon. It wasn’t exactly the response he’d been expecting.

“Well, I just want you to know if my seed takes root, I’ll let you throw your rope around my neck.” As soon as he said it, he recognized it as the lame-brained proposal it was. So did she.

“Very eloquently tendered, Mr. Burke, but your concern is unnecessary. Now would you bring that last box out here?” She glanced up, giving him her best
you’re a jackass
look.

She dodged the conversation and kept him loading her pastries until the last carton was in the wagon. Then she stood waiting for him to leave. He wasn’t ready yet. She looked at him, he looked at her and finally he asked, “You upset about something?”

“Not at all,” she said, folding her hands in front of her.

He caught a blonde strand of hair escaping her sedate bun. Rolling it between his fingers, he bent close, inhaling the scent of lilacs and blanketing his senses with Eleanor before he left for town.

He nipped her neck, then kissed it. “Our two-week trial period is over today.” It seemed as if she’d always been a part of his life. Suddenly anxious to secure her stay, he asked, “You good with extending the contract?”

Cyrus hadn’t doubted what her answer would be—until she hesitated.

“If you’re offering me continued employment for four more weeks—yes. Then our business arrangement will end.” Noticeably disinterested in the topic, she pushed the conversation back to her damn pastries. “It’s going to be very hot soon. Could you…”

Irritated at the way she kept dodging his subject of choice, Cyrus climbed on the wagon. Hell, he wanted her forever but was begging for four more weeks.

“Don’t forget to have Mable fill this order or I might have to serve beans for a week.” Eleanor stepped closer, tucking two slips of paper into his shirt pocket.

“I’ll be back in time for supper. What do you want me to bring you?” he asked gruffly.

“Just deliver my note to Mable. Everything you need is on it. And don’t forget the spools of thread, the buttons and the new broom I listed.”

“What happened to the broom you had? Maybe I can fix it,” Cyrus offered.

“You can’t. Pinch pennies on luxuries not necessities,” she said piously.

“Guess I better get a new broom then.” He was pretty sure he could fix it and not waste money but her disgust was apparent so he humored her, trying to get her to smile.

“What’s the thread for?” he asked.

“Your shirts have so many buttons missing I’ve used all my sewing supplies. Whoever kept house for you before did a deplorable job. You need to pay more attention to your female employees’
domestic skills
in the future, Mr. Burke.” Her smile was so bright her eyes seemed to glitter.

He drawled, “I’ll do that, Eleanor.”

He didn’t pick up the reins to leave the ranch yard until he saw her go in the house. Then he started for town, replaying their negotiations in his head.
Our business arrangement…

It jerked him to a skidding halt.
Armor, that’s what’s different—before she was open and having fun. Damned if she doesn’t have her corset strings pulled tight again.

Cyrus was still mulling over Eleanor’s aloof expression when he neared the town’s only store. He had some questions for Mable and he expected answers.

He unloaded Eleanor’s desserts and carried them to the back, setting them near the coffee brewing on the small cookstove. The clerk gawked at him as usual and as always he winked, sending her scurrying as though the devil offered her temptation.

Mable was busy with customers and Cyrus helped himself to the dry goods and essentials on the list Eleanor had sent, boxing them and tallying each item for the final bill. Finished with his have-to-haves, he poured himself a cup of day-old brew and carried the mug with him as he studied the women’s items for sale.

“Put this on my bill with the rest of the order,” he told Mable when she joined him. He handed her his total, Eleanor’s note and a heavy wooden rolling pin. Lowering his voice, he got down to real business. “Why’d you bring her to the ranch?”

“Because I know she can handle anything you throw at her and she needed a place to stay. Henry may work for you, but he takes orders from the family in Hartford and they sent for her. Right now, he thinks she’s on her way home.” Mable met his hard glance with her toothy grin, read Eleanor’s note and said, “You want everything on this list?”

“Did I not say so?” Cyrus brushed aside her question, thinking instead about what he’d been
throwing
at Eleanor. She’d handled it all right, but he didn’t figure Mable would appreciate how well.

“Give this to her. It’s her cut from her last sales.” Mable handed him a wad of greenbacks.

“You chargin’ her full price for her ingredients?” Cyrus tucked the money in his pocket as he asked.

“You managing her business interests now?” They faced each other in a standoff until Mable conceded. “Wouldn’t do her or me any good to build a business she can’t make money at—of course I’m discounting for her.”

“She wants that shack next door fixed up. Don’t suppose it was your idea was it?” Cyrus knew damned well who put Ellie on to the building.

“Didn’t see you doin’ it for an old lady like me, but I thought maybe those purple eyes of hers might melt a layer from your gold-encased heart.”

“Put the lumber on my bill and get some locals workin’ on it. She wants to open for business in a month.” He’d already decided Eleanor was staying on the ranch. He’d promised her the shack would be ready for business. He just hadn’t promised she’d be running it. All in all, he’d decided another round of negotiations was imminent.

“Preacher still needs a new roof on the church. While you’re feeling so generous, you might want to donate to the cause.” Mable followed him to the wagon, nagging him about another one of her pet projects. She’d been after him to help the church get a new roof for over a year. They could drown when it rained for all he cared. The churchers had slammed the doors on his mother when she’d birthed him—a bastard.

“Tell the preacher to come sling hash in my kitchen and scrub the floors for six weeks. If he works as hard as my current housekeeper, then we’ll see. I’ve got no more time or money to waste on roofing the church now than I did the last conversation we had.”

“Let Eleanor know I’ll need the order doubled again come next Wednesday. I swear I can’t keep her bake goods long enough to take a bite out of one myself.” Mable knew when to cut her losses and changed the topic back to Eleanor.

“Mable, do you have any idea how many cream puffs she’s going to have to sell to make a living? Hell, she’ll work dawn to after midnight and wear herself out. What are you thinking putting this idea in her head?” Cyrus might keep his opinion under wraps with Eleanor but he sure as hell didn’t hold back with the store owner.

“She’s got nothing waiting for her but trouble at home. What other option does she have?” She looked at him shrewdly and waited.

“Eleanor has other choices.” He slapped the reins and set the rig in motion.

“That old building next door needs a lot of work. I’m not cuttin’ the cost of nails for you. Understand that,” Mable called after him.

Cyrus drove away thinking about the shack Eleanor intended to call home. It wouldn’t be needed. He frowned. His plan to extend her stay to forever was meeting resistance.

“She’s got her hat slapped on straight and she’s packing her recipes. Guess I’ll have to change her mind.” He was relishing the coming siege as he drove the wagon into the ranch yard midmorning.

When he entered the house, he checked out her mood. Yep, Ellie was hiding and Mrs. Prim ’n’ Proper had replaced her in the kitchen.

“I looked over that building you’re whining about. Lumber to fix that old shack won’t come cheap.” Cyrus decided to dangle some bait.

It tickled Cyrus when her polite indifference immediately changed to militant attention. Miz Prim disappeared and Ellie prepared to wrestle as many concessions from him as she could.

“I would like to negotiate a continuing lease on my building.” Her chin went up a notch.

“It’s not your building and it needs new siding and a roof. You’d better think about that cost first.” He scratched his jaw and frowned.

“Perhaps you can factor the cost of repairs into the rental you charge,” she suggested.

“So you do know it belongs to me? And you played me a little, getting me to the fix-it-up stage?”

“Perhaps I
scoped out the lay of the land
before beginning my negotiations.” She conceded, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.

Cyrus had an uneasy feeling he’d used just those words recently.

Eleanor enjoyed serving Cyrus his own words. She went to the porch to begin carrying in the supplies and he followed. He handed her a broom and stacked his own arms full of dry goods. As soon as they were through the door, she set down the broom and grabbed the top sack of flour, her grunt of surprise escaping as the weight pulled her arms downward.

“Mr. Burke,” she panted, gripping the flour sack inches above the floor. “Your load is too heavy. You take on too much.”

She half carried, half dragged the bag into the pantry, emptying its contents into the metal flour bin. White powder floated in the air around them as Cyrus set two more bags by her feet with a thump.

“Mable said to give you this.” He pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and handed them to her.

Eleanor counted the bills, excitement tingling through her, barely paying attention to him.

“Quit your money-grubbing for a moment and listen to me.”

“No.” She looked up from her counting long enough to duck under his arm and scurry toward the exit.

Cyrus followed her, determined to have his say. “We’ve got some things to discuss.”

“No we don’t,” she said quickly. Eleanor stood in the middle of the kitchen clutching her money in her hand and facing him. She tried not to stare but when he leaned against the sink and crossed one ankle over the other, his denims drew tight, clearly outlining the ridge of his arousal. She ignored the hungry clench of her womb and pointed outside.

“I have supply boxes to empty and supper to fix. You’re taking up needed space in my kitchen.” Then she remembered it wasn’t her kitchen and flushed. “I beg your pardon—your kitchen—but I can’t work with you in the way.”

She had to be firm. Cyrus was heady—like fine wine. Rough cowboy on the outside he might be, but he knew how to please a woman and under his gruff exterior lurked the skills of a consummate lover. She wanted to succumb—take whatever he offered and savor it as it developed.

It was hard to remain aloof but Eleanor reached in her pocket for strength, fingering the purple garter, a gaudy rose-topped reminder that she was one of many housekeepers who’d tended his needs and served him night dessert. That he was willing to marry her to get the addition of a clean house—well, that was an insult.

“I found a present for you at Mable’s store.”

Eleanor waited expectantly, preparing for some licentious memento he might offer—a silk scarf, sensuous robe, fancy garter?

“Thought I’d get you something you can use in your pastry business.” Cyrus turned, rummaging in one of the boxes on the counter before handing her a wooden rolling pin.

“Thank you.” Eleanor accepted the work tool, blinking in astonishment at the gift, her disappointment warring with relief that it hadn’t been the usual fare. Actually, it was a thoughtful present. Mable’s old hand-me-down had one grip gone and it made rolling thin piecrust a lot more work.

“About the other,” he said. “The rubber…”

“Use them as you would with all your other housekeepers. I would not want you to worry nor me to be compromised.” His segue from pastry tools to his condom lapse startled her so much she didn’t guard her speech.

He started to say something then pulled his hat on instead and Eleanor found herself squeezed in a tight embrace, her body molded to his as he kissed her.

“I don’t want to use them again,” he growled, nipping up her neck and rubbing his jaw against her cheek. “From now on, I want to feel your wet heat squeezing my cock up close and personal.” 

She was in complete mental disarray when he left. To compose herself, she counted her pastry money and made notations in the account ledger he’d provided.
Is he trying to get me with child to secure his housekeeper?
The thought was too silly to entertain for long.

Eleanor set aside her pastry business to take care of her housekeeping duties, shelving the supplies, peeling the potatoes for supper and making three dishes of peach cobbler for dessert. As she rolled out the thin crust she smiled in appreciation at the thoughtful gift Cyrus had given her.

Then she remembered the scarves upstairs in his chest and grimaced. Looking for something else to focus on, she put the cobblers in to bake and sat in the porch swing sketching the interior shelving she’d need in her shop.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Aunt Millie and Uncle Henry, accompanied by Mable sitting in the back seat, arrived in their buggy. Fine conveyance though it was, the rough trip from town to the Burke land had coated it and its passengers in dust.

“An Alcott selling her services as a domestic. Eleanor, what can you be thinking? As soon as I returned to town and saw your pastries in Mable’s store, I knew you hadn’t left, and everyone else will too.” Millie immediately began her harangue when the carriage stopped.

With the assurance of a job backing her, Eleanor said tartly, “It became apparent I needed to find a means to support myself when Uncle Henry confiscated my funds—I have done so.”

Uncle Henry said, “Eleanor, calm down. I admit we were a little precipitous in ordering you back to Hartford. My apologies, my dear, but Millie’s right. It won’t do at all, you working as a housekeeper for Burke.”

Damnation.
She cursed silently.
She’d secured her grubstake with continuing employment from Mr. Burke—now was not the time for her relatives to descend and try to wrest control from her.

“Excuse me,” she said. Grabbing the mallet, she beat the gong resoundingly, signaling trouble. With the sound still reverberating in the air, Eleanor announced, “I have cobbler baking,” and retreated to the kitchen to retrieve her dessert from the oven. When she returned, the three uninvited visitors were still in the buggy and Cyrus was riding into the ranch yard.

* * * * *

“You’ve got company on the way to the house.” Sage had found Cyrus in the back pasture stringing wire and delivered the bad news. “Looks like the bank president and his wife with Mable Smyth riding in the jump seat.”

Unease simmered in his gut. Mable knew better than bringing unwanted visitors on his land. Something was wrong.

“Can’t have trespassers harassing my cook. Take over here.” He’d left Sage in charge and headed for home. The length of Eleanor’s employment was something he’d been trying to discuss with her—as in she wasn’t leaving. The possibility of losing her today worried him all the way to the ranch. As he neared the barn lot, he heard the trouble gong booming.
Sounds like she’s callin’ for backup.

His thoughts were grim but he made his tone amiable when he approached the group frozen in discord. Eleanor stood on the porch facing the Alcotts and Cyrus stopped his horse on their other side so they had to divide their attentions.

“Middle of a workday is a strange time to come for a visit, Henry. Is there a problem at the bank?” Cyrus folded his arms over his pommel, leaning forward sociably. Henry wasn’t fooled at the show of congeniality and flushed red.

“Eleanor, you will ruin us all. If not your own reputation, please have a care for ours.” Henry’s wife ignored everyone but Eleanor.

“Gossip’s an ugly critter, Millie. I’d be careful. It has a way of doubling back with a bite sometimes.” Cyrus pinned Millie with a warning stare before pulling out his pocket watch to study it.

“As you know, Henry, finding good help isn’t easy. It would be a shame if I had to waste valuable time finding a new bank president.”

“Let me explain,” Henry began his stumbling justification. “My wife and I just learned…we’ve come to fetch our niece…there’s been a misunderstanding. She can’t be your housekeeper.” His last sentence was delivered frantically.

“It won’t do, not at all.” He shook his head, looking desperate.

“Mrs. Lacey and I have a contract. You figure on buying it out?” Cyrus drawled.

“Yes,” Millie snapped.

“Mrs. Lacey, are you good with that?” Cyrus shifted his glance to Ellie, who looked ready to take off running.

He’d seen Eleanor’s anger, humor and disdain, but until now, he’d never seen her fear. She stood blanched of color, hands fisted at her sides, facing all of them defiantly. It disappointed him some that she had no faith in him.

“I am
not
good with that, Mr. Burke. I have a contract with you and our agreement states that you will deal only with me. I believe I have several more weeks of employment to complete.” Her head tilted proudly as she answered him.

“So you do.” He nodded agreement.

Eleanor got some color back in her face, apparently made confident by his oblique support. Cyrus hid his smile when Eleanor faced down Henry.

“Uncle Henry, Mr. Burke and I have made an agreement concerning the building next to the Smyth Mercantile. When funds are needed for repairs and supplies, please transfer money from my allowance to my employer’s account.”

Cyrus was proud of her. Emboldened by witnesses, Eleanor did well, maneuvering Henry into looking like a thief if he said no.

“Guess that ends the conversation, Henry. Have a safe trip back to town.” Shrugging and displaying indifference he didn’t feel, Cyrus cut short any protest the banker might make.

Henry’s wife wasn’t so obliging. She scrambled from the buggy and was already on the steps to the house before either man could stop her.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, Millie?” Cyrus asked gruffly.

“I’m afraid I need to use your convenience, Cyrus.” She turned her head, smiling triumphantly at him from the porch.

“Is that apple or peach cobbler Eleanor’s fixing?” Mable asked, sniffing the air.

Cyrus didn’t miss Henry’s wistful glance at the front door.

“Melts in your mouth,” Cyrus taunted him. “My housekeeper’s a hell of a cook.” He wet his lower lip as if tasting the memory and asked, “You ever had one of those things she calls éclairs, Henry?”

“Eleanor has a fine hand with pastries. We agree on that. But we both know a woman of her station shouldn’t be living here and working as your housekeeper.” Alcott punctuated his statement with a stiff nod.

“I’ll cut you some slack this time, Mable, because you put Mrs. Lacey up when this jackass booted her out. Next time though, you bring unannounced visitors to my ranch and you lose the padlock key.”

“Cyrus, that’s a load of hoo-ha Henry’s feeding Eleanor. He’s got another ticket for Hartford in his vest and those are her trunks we brought along. He’s taking her to the train depot in Paris. Not back to town.” She pointed at the baggage tied to the back of the buggy and tattled.

“That right, Henry?” Cyrus looked at the banker, who met his gaze defiantly.

“Eleanor was sent to our home for safekeeping. Her presence is now required in Hartford. I haven’t been given the details, but the divorce is now a dead issue, buried with William Lacey in his grave. I understand my niece’s reluctance to return, but she can’t hide forever and I must oblige the head of the Alcott family when he issues his orders.”

His expression—militant and set—reminded Cyrus of Eleanor when she’d refused to give up Mable’s business.

“I guess you Alcotts are a big deal in Hartford?” Mable inserted herself in the standoff.

Cyrus had done his homework and knew they were.

“The Alcotts are a family of importance and responsibilities. Scandal undermines business. An attack on one member is an offense against all.” Henry elevated his chin proudly. “We are seeking redress for Eleanor’s insult.”

“Those are mighty fine words, Henry. You forget that when I hired you we agreed that my business came first?” Cyrus drawled the words slowly, watching red creep up the other man’s neck and reach his chin.

“I am a loyal and trustworthy employee and I work very hard managing your business affairs as well as the bank’s. I believe you have found my investment advice valuable and we have found consensus on most issues. But on this we must disagree. Eleanor has been ordered home.”

“Whatever your family is paying you, double it and add it on to your current salary each month.” Cyrus figured money talked first with Henry.

“It’s a most generous offer, one that I would be happy to earn, but I must decline if the offer includes my niece’s continued habitation with you on your ranch.” Henry looked so depressed Cyrus almost felt sorry for him.

“I proposed,” Cyrus told him flatly. “She’s considering it. Don’t get in the way.”

“You proposed marriage?” Henry asked in disbelief.

“Yep.” Cyrus caught the flash of Mable’s grin as she nodded her approval. He switched his attention to the store owner and asked, “How’s her business doin’?”

“She’ll have folks waiting on the day she opens up and that can’t be soon enough. The dessert customers are beginning to take up room in my store and crowd out my shoppers.”

“I thought you said you were getting married,” Henry said suspiciously.

“I said I offered.”

“Then why set up the building for her?”

“A person likes to have choices. I figure if I can’t come in first with Eleanor in a runoff between me and a goddamned cream puff filled with air, I don’t deserve to have her. Like I said, she’s considering me. Meanwhile, she’s my housekeeper as long as she wants the job.”