The Rancher and His Unexpected Daughter (8 page)

“You call. I'll run,” Jenny repeated. “If he's here when I get back, I'll slip in through the kitchen. Just keep him out of here.”

Janet reached for her purse and pulled out a twenty. “Go,” she said. A survey of the disaster she'd made of the kitchen had her adding, “And don't worry about coming in through the kitchen. I wouldn't let Harlan in here if it were burning down and he were the volunteer fireman.”

When Jenny was gone and she'd placed the desperation call to Gina DiPasquali, she left the kitchen and closed the door behind her. If there'd been a lock, she would have turned the key.

At least the dining room looked presentable. Jenny had even picked flowers for the center of the table and had put out the good china and silver. For all of her grumbling about Harlan Adams, it appeared she wanted to impress him, as well. Janet was more pleased about that than she cared to admit.

She was just checking her makeup in the hall mirror when the doorbell rang. Precisely at six o'clock, she noted, checking her watch. She wondered if that was an indication of polite promptness or, perhaps, just a little eagerness. Her heart thumped unsteadily at the possibility that it might be the latter.

When she opened the door, she could barely glimpse Harlan through the huge bouquet of flowers in his arms.

“Did you buy out the florist's entire stock?” she asked, taking them from him.

He shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed. “It was late Saturday. She said it would all spoil by Monday anyway, so she gave me a deal,” he said, confirming what she'd meant as a facetious comment.

“I see.”

“I brought wine and candy, too. I wasn't sure which you'd prefer.”

“The flowers would have been plenty,” she assured him, wondering how the devil she was going to keep him out of the kitchen if she took them in there to put them in vases.

He grinned. “A little over the top, huh?”

“But sweet,” she assured him.

“It's been a long time since I've gone calling on a lady.”

She could tell. He looked about as at ease as a man making his first trip to a lingerie department. Not even his starched white shirt, expensive black trousers and snakeskin boots could combat the impression made by his anxious expression.

“You seem to forget that this isn't exactly a date,” she said to reassure him. “You won dinner fair and square on a bet.”

She waved him toward a chair. “Have a seat and I'll get these in water. What can I bring you to drink when I come back? Wine? A beer? Iced tea?”

“Iced tea sounds good. Why don't we sit on the porch? It's a nice night. Or is dinner just about ready?”

“No, dinner will be a while,” she said in what had to be the understatement of the decade. However, sitting on the porch was out of the question. He was bound to spot Jenny returning from DiPasquali's. She grasped desperately for an alternative.

“Actually, I hate to do this to you, but my bathroom faucet has been leaking.” Even though the tactic grated, she used her most helpless expression on him. “I don't know the first thing about changing a washer. Could you take a look at it?”

He latched onto the request as if she'd thrown him a lifeline. “Just show me the way.”

She led him down the narrow hallway to the old-fashioned bathroom, which, thankfully, Jenny had
straightened up after her shower. “I bought washers and there are some tools there,” she said, pointing.

“I'll have this fixed in no time,” he promised, already loosening his collar and rolling up his sleeves. “By the way, it's nice to walk into a house and smell dinner cooking. There's nothing like the scent of chocolate to make a man's mouth water.” He glanced at her and winked. “Unless it's that sexy perfume you're wearing.”

“I'm not sure it's perfume you're smelling,” she said. “It's probably all these flowers.”

He shook his head. “They were in the car with me all the way into town. That's not it. I'd say you're wearing something light with just a hint of spice. It's the kind of thing that could drive a man wild.”

Janet could feel herself blushing. “Thanks. If you'll excuse me, I'll get these into water.”

In the kitchen she put the flowers down on the only clear surface, the top of the stove, and drew in a deep breath. She hadn't realized what a sucker she was for charm. Maybe it was just the sweetly tentative way in which it was delivered.

She didn't doubt for an instant that Harlan Adams had always been a flirt, but she was also very aware that he was out of practice delivering compliments with all sorts of subtle innuendo behind them. Teasing a woman just to make her feel good was one thing. It was another to be experimenting with dating after so many years of marriage. It made what they were doing here tonight seem riskier and more significant for both of them.

She sighed and forced her attention to the flowers. It took three large vases to handle all of them. She
scattered the arrangements around the living room, poured Harlan's iced tea, then traipsed back to the bathroom where she'd left him.

“I brought your tea,” she said, keeping one ear attuned to any sounds from the kitchen that might indicate that Jenny had returned. “How's it going?”

“The washer's replaced,” he said, his voice muffled. He had his head poked into the vanity under the sink. “Thought I'd check to make sure all the joints were sealed under here while I was at it.”

He slid out and grinned at her. “No leaks under there.”

She took one look at the streaks of grime on his face and shirt and winced. “Harlan, you're a mess. I'm sorry. I should never have asked you to do this for me, especially when you were all dressed up.”

“Stop fussing. A little dirt never hurt anybody. I'll wash up.”

“But your shirt…” she protested.

“It's not a problem,” he insisted. He shot her a wicked grin. “Unless, of course, you object to a man coming to the dinner table looking like this. I could strip down and let you wash the shirt here and now.”

He seemed a little too eager for her to grab at that solution. “Never mind,” she assured him. “I'm the one responsible. I can hardly complain, can I?”

Just then she heard the kitchen door slam. She plastered what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face. “Oh, good, that must be Jenny. She's been out for a bit. Now that she's back, I'll get dinner on the table. Go on out to the porch after you've washed up, why don't you? Relax for a minute. I'll call you when everything's on the table.”

“I could help,” he offered.

“No, indeed. You've done more than enough. Besides, you won the bet. I can't have you helping.”

She took off, trying to ignore the fact that there was something a little too knowing about his expression. He couldn't possibly have guessed what she'd done, could he? No, of course not. As long he remained far away from that kitchen, there was no way he could figure out that she hadn't prepared every dish herself.

Jenny was pulling aluminum pans of food out of paper bags when Janet got back to the kitchen.

“Gina said to warm the lasagna again for a few minutes before you serve it. I've already turned the oven on low. The salad's in that package. She put the dressing on the side, so you could toss it in your bowl.” She reached into another bag and pulled out a loaf of Italian bread wrapped in foil. “Garlic bread. It goes in the oven, too.”

Janet rolled her eyes at Jenny's instructions. “I could have figured that much out for myself.”

“Who would guess?” Jenny quipped. “So how'd you keep Mr. Adams out of here?”

“I had him fixing the leak in the bathroom.”

Jenny grinned. “Good for you. It's about time he sees what it's like to work for free.”

“I don't think he thought of it quite that way. He was doing me a favor.” She pointed to the bowl of frosting. “The cake should be cool enough by now. You ice it while I toss the salad.”

Twenty minutes later they were seated in the dining room. Janet's heart was in her throat as Harlan took his first bite of salad. Would he be able to tell
she hadn't prepared it? It was only lettuce, tomatoes and a few radishes. Surely he wouldn't suspect that even that much had been beyond her skill.

“Delicious,” he said. “Jenny, I think you sold your mother short when you said she couldn't cook.”

Janet shot a warning look at her daughter. Jenny shrugged.

“It's pretty hard to ruin a bunch of lettuce and some tomatoes,” she retorted, avoiding Janet's gaze.

The lasagna was an equally big hit. “Can't think when I've had any better,” Harlan enthused. “It's every bit as good as Gina DiPasquali's.”

Janet groaned and covered her face. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that the jig was up. “You know, don't you?”

“Know what?” Harlan replied, trying to sound innocent and failing miserably.

“That Jenny picked up the salad, bread and lasagna from DiPasquali's.”

He winked at Jenny. “Did she now?”

“How did you know?” Janet demanded.

“Saw her running in the front door of the restaurant as I drove through town,” he finally admitted as Jenny chuckled.

Janet glared at the pair of them. “And you let me wriggle on the hook like a big old fish. Did you enjoy watching me squirm trying to keep you away from the front of the house till she got back?”

He nodded. “Sure did.” He reached across the table and patted her hand consolingly. “That's okay, darlin'. I appreciate you going to all that trouble to impress me.”

Janet moaned. “I did not do it to impress you,” she declared adamantly.

“She did it to keep you from getting food poisoning,” Jenny chimed in. “You should see—”

“That's enough, Jenny,” Janet said sharply. She was determined to get through the rest of the evening with some dignity intact. If she wasn't careful, Jenny would be offering Harlan a tour of the kitchen.

“That chocolate cake sure does smell good,” he said. “I know Gina didn't stop by and bake that.”

“It's got a great big crack right down the middle,” Jenny revealed. “I had to patch it together with icing.”

Janet scowled at her. “Thank you for sharing that,” she grumbled.

Harlan winked at her this time. “Don't fret, darlin'. With chocolate cake, it's taste, not looks, that count.”

“I wouldn't hold your breath on that score, either,” Jenny warned. “She probably left out something important.”

If she could have, Janet would have sent Jenny to her room on the spot before she made any more embarrassing revelations. Unfortunately, she could see the injustice of such an act. She was just going to have to survive this debacle and hope that Harlan wasn't one to gossip. Fortunately, she was in town to practice law, not to do catering.

As it turned out, the cake was not only edible, but actually pretty good. At least Harlan ate two slices of it, his amused gaze fixed on her the whole time. He seemed especially fond of the inch-thick icing in the middle.

The minute dinner was over he shooed Jenny off by declaring that he would help clean up. Jenny didn't
have to be asked twice. She was gone before Janet could protest.

“You cannot walk into that kitchen,” she said adamantly, though short of stretching out her arms and trying to bar the doorway, she didn't know what she could do to stop him.

He ignored her, picked up an armload of dishes and headed across the dining room. “The sooner we get things squared away in there, the sooner you and I can sit on that front porch and enjoy the breeze.”

To his credit, he didn't even blink as he walked into the midst of the mess she'd created trying to make dinner. Maybe he'd served time on KP in the military at some point, she decided as she watched the ease with which he set things right.

“Come here,” he commanded when he'd washed the last dish and wiped down the countertops.

“I don't think so,” she said, holding up the last plate she was drying as if to ward him off.

He grinned, shrugged and came to her. Before she realized his intentions, he slid his arms around her waist and held her in a loose embrace. “Thank you,” he said softly, his breath fanning intimately across her cheek.

“For what?” she asked shakily. Her breath snagged in her throat as she met his gaze.

“For going to so much trouble.”

“I told you—”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “I know what you told me, but the fact is you could have served me whatever that was you cooked in the first place and tried to scare me off for
good. Instead, you went to a lot of trouble that wasn't necessary. I don't scare that easily.”

She sighed. “That's what I'm afraid of.”

He studied her intently. The spark of mischief in his eyes raised goose bumps.

“You gonna fall apart if I kiss you?” he inquired.

An unwilling smile tugged at her lips. “I might.”

He nodded. “I think I'll risk it anyway,” he said softly.

He lowered his head until his lips were a tantalizing hairbreadth above hers. She trembled as she waited for him to close that infinitesimal distance. When, at last, their mouths met, she could have sworn fireworks exploded. She'd been expecting a kiss that was gentle and tentative. Instead, he plundered, claiming her mouth as surely as his ancestors had claimed Comanche land.

After the first startled instant, when she couldn't have moved if her life depended on it, Janet slid her hands from his shoulders into his thick hair, holding him, encouraging him to continue the assault that had her senses vibrantly, thrillingly alive for perhaps the first time ever. Nothing she had shared with her ex-husband compared to the consuming, white-hot fire raging through her just from Harlan Adams's incomparable kiss.

She willed it to go on forever, imagining all of the wicked places it could take her. But just as she was indulging in sensations so sweet her heart ached for them to continue, she heard a startled gasp behind her.