Expecting.... Carol Grace
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avoided looking at him. Afraid of what? That he might have the power to see into her soul? Find out her secret? The man who oozed wealth and self-confidence was at that moment glaring at her. Even down the length of the table she could feel his disapproval. Of what? What had she done but nibble on some barbecued beef and listen to Perry gossip?
The conversation at Zach’s end of the table revolved around topics like shorthorns and Brahmans. So even at dinner he was all business. But he was all macho man, too. In control of his house, his land and his personnel. Except for one renegade ex-foreman and one ex-housekeeper. Was that the reason for the frown on his face? Or was it directed at her personally?
“Does he have a wife and family?” she asked.
“No,” Perry said, stuffing a large piece of beef into his mouth. “That’s my point. What good is all this land and money if you’ve got no one to share it with?”
Leaving Perry’s question hanging in the air, she stared at Zach, wondering if he felt the same way. If he did, there must be a ton of women who would jump at the chance to share this beautiful place. If they could ignore his acerbic personality, his male chauvinist ideas and his domineering manner.
Mrs. Calhoun would have her meals cooked for her, her bed made and acres of wildflowers and stables of horses to call her own. Or half her own. If he could talk an astronomer into being a housekeeper in one half hour, he could certainly talk any other woman into being his wife. If he wanted one. She wondered if he wanted children. She never had. Not until now.
At that precise moment he looked up and caught her staring at him. Their glances met and held for a long minute while the conversation dimmed in the background and the faces around the table faded. She tried to break the contact but she couldn’t. His intense gaze held her captive over bowls of creamed corn and platters of tomatoes. She’d already consented to be his housekeeper. What more did he want with her? Her stomach knotted with nerves and apprehension. She shredded her napkin in her lap without realizing it.
Just as she thought she might have to make an abrupt departure from the table to escape his brilliant blue gaze, his interest in her faded as the maid brought in coffee and plates of freshly baked spice cookies and someone asked Zach if he’d ever found his missing calves.
Before she’d left the dining room, two more people asked if they could have Joe’s cabin. She said she’d see. She’d say anything to get out of there and away from the aura of the presence at the end of the table. But just as she was the last to arrive in the dining room, she was the last to leave. Or next to last. Zach was still at the table, making notes on a paper napkin. Without realizing she was doing it, she held her breath and tiptoed past him.
His arm snaked out and grabbed her hand. “Not so fast.”
“What, what is it?” she gasped.
“Sit down.”
She sat.
“I want to talk to you.”
“Go ahead.” Her heart was pounding. Not from fear. From apprehension. Anxiety. Misgivings.
He pressed her hands between his rough callused palms. “Your hands are like ice.”
“Cold hands, warm heart,” she said lightly.
“That’s right I remember,” he said deliberately, letting his heated gaze follow the curve of her breasts and linger there. Her face flamed. She tugged at her hands. He held on.
“Just a warning. Stay away from Perry. He’s a lech. Unless you want to end up like your predecessor.”
“I don’t intend to run away with one of your staff,” she said coolly. Little did he know she was not the type to inspire such passion in anyone. The brief affair with Joe was her one-and-only fling. His interest in her had so surprised and flattered her she’d lost her normal good sense. Of course she could blame the three beers or the music or the fact that it was the night of her twenty-eighth birthday and she was still a virgin. A reluctant virgin. There was all that. And there was more. The need to prove she could attract a man like Joe.
“That’s reassuring. Who do you intend to run away with?”
“No one. By the way,” she said, looking down at his broad, work-hardened hands that still clasped her pale slender fingers. “Am I on duty twenty-four hours a day?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your stargazing.”
“They’re not stars, they’re nebulae. Clouds made of gas and smoke and...”
“Whatever.”
She pushed her chair out from the table. Enough of this patronizing boor.
With a loud scraping sound he pulled the chair with her in it back to the table and said, “I’m not through with you yet.”
Two
He poured her a cup of coffee from the urn on the table, leaned back in his chair and observed her through narrowed eyes.
She shook her head and set the cup aside.
“How are you going to stay awake for the Milky Way if you don’t get some caffeine in your system?” he asked.
“I’m not staying awake for the Milky Way. The Milky Way is a galaxy, made up of stars, of which we are all a part, the nebulae, however—”
“Are clouds made of gas and smoke.”
“And dust Very good,” she said with grudging admiration.
“I took notes. Thought there might be a quiz,” he said. “Here’s an idea. Instead of studying those nebulae of yours, why don’t you find a new comet and name it after yourself? Mallory Phillips. It has a nice ring to it.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. The way he rolled her name around on his tongue made a shiver go up her spine.
“Tea?” he asked.
She capitulated. “All right.” If she wasn’t going to get away from him anytime soon she might as well have a cup of tea.
She thought he’d have someone bring it. Instead he went to the kitchen himself and came back five minutes later with a cup of fragrant, passion peach.
She eyed him over her steaming cup. “Don’t you have...things to do?”
“I have to talk to you. About avoiding the men here.”
“I don’t see how I can do that and still do my job,” she said. “What is my job, by the way? I know, housekeeper. But what does that mean, actually, besides supervising? Supervising who, what, how? How am I supposed to supervise people who know more than I do? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“You’re just nervous,” he said. “It’s a great idea.”
He would say that since it was his idea.
“Not just supervising...coordinating,” he corrected.
“All right, coordinating. What do I coordinate?”
“Everything. Everybody. You’ll learn on the job. You’ll ask people who’ve been here awhile. You’ll find Diane’s household records. Learn where she ordered supplies and groceries and how she assigned housing and who does what around here. Not all at once. As you go along. The important thing is that you not...”
“I know. Run away with your foreman. Don’t worry, it’s not likely to happen again. Not to me, anyway. I’ve never been... As you said, I’m a day late.”
Zach rubbed his hand over his forehead. “You’re not the only one. Day two and the agency still can’t find anybody for me to even interview. How do they expect me to run a thousand-acre ranch without a foreman?” he asked.
“Isn’t two days a little short notice?” she asked. “If you’re so impatient why don’t you just wait