Undercover Fiance. Sheryl Lynn
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relax, even to enjoy herself. “You’re quite the romantic.”
“Hopelessly.” A light breeze tousled his hair. Cold turned his cheeks ruddy. He playfully flipped at her furry coat collar. “Aren’t you?”
She reminded herself he was an employee with a specific task to accomplish. No flirtations. No silliness. “No. I’m a businesswoman.”
“Nine-to-five and nothing else? I don’t believe it What do you do for fun?”
“Balance spreadsheets.”
He threw back his head and laughed.
They walked past the tennis courts and picnic grounds. She pointed out the stables. From a distance a faint jingling of bells said guests were enjoying a horse-drawn wagon ride.
A discordant noise caught her attention. She followed the source and spotted puffs of black smoke rising toward the jewel-like sky. She headed toward it.
“What’s going on?” Daniel asked.
“I’m about to find out.” She reached a garage. Off by itself, tucked behind the dormitory and equipment storage sheds, her father used it to store his antique Jeep. The maintenance people used it to repair mechanical equipment. She considered it an eyesore.
In the graveled yard two men worked on a tractor outfitted with a grading blade. The vehicle sputtered and its engine ground as if in pain. Every few seconds black smoke belched from the exhaust pipe.
The head of maintenance, wearing coveralls and a greasy, billed cap, grinned at her. “Howdy, Ms. Duke. I told the colonel I could get this old girl running.”
Janine swept her gaze over the yard. Tools, gasoline jugs, engine parts and a barrel of grease littered the ground. Discomfited by the junkyard appearance, she glanced at Daniel. He seemed interested in the tractor.
“I appreciate you getting it running again, Juan,” she said. She swept out a hand. “But you can’t leave the yard looking like this.”
The man seated inside the cab shouted over the engine noise. “We gotta get those trails scraped, ma’am. The colonel wants it done today. With the old tractor running we don’t have to hire Kendricks. He’s a robber. Charges an arm and a leg.”
Wiping his hands on a rag, Juan said, “Randy is right, ma’am. We got to work those trails. Don’t be worrying none. We’ll set this place right before sunset.”
The garage wasn’t visible from the lodge, and guests had no reason to come back here. If she hadn’t been so boastful about showing off the grounds, she wouldn’t mind the mess.
“The engine sounds terrible,” she said. “Are you sure it’ll make it up the hills?”
Juan laughed. “She’s a real monster, ma’am. Now that she’s running, she’ll go anywhere. Especially with me riding shotgun for Randy.” He turned his toothy smile on Daniel. Questions sparkled in his eyes.
As if in answer, Daniel hugged her waist and pressed his cheek briefly against hers. “It sounds great to me, cupcake.” He thrust out his right hand. “Daniel Tucker. Janine is showing me the place. I’m impressed. You’re the man who maintains the grounds for my little sweetie here?”
“Juan Hernandez.” He pumped Daniel’s hand. His cheeks reddened as if he were about to burst into laughter. “I keep the machines running. Nice meeting you.” Juan turned for the tractor. His coveralls sagged with the weight of tools in every pocket. He climbed into the cab with Randy.
Janine watched the vehicle lumber out of the yard. Realizing Daniel had left her she turned around. He peered inside the garage. “Over-the-top is one thing,” she said. “But is calling me goofy names truly necessary?”
He flashed her a boyish smile. He gestured excitedly inside the garage. “Is that what I think it is?”
Men, she thought wearily. Did they never outgrow their delight with ridiculous toys? Even her father, a man in his seventies, collected firearms, golf clubs and military memorabilia as avidly as a six-year-old collected action figures. She followed Daniel into the garage.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste. The place smelled of mice, motor oil and rotting wood. The narrow windows set high near the ceiling held ancient glass coated with dust, grease and spiderwebs. For years she’d been begging her father to tear down this building and replace it with a proper maintenance garage. For years he’d been telling her he’d get around to it. She was beginning to believe he secretly reveled in this small corner of disorder in his otherwise highly structured world.
Daniel rubbed both hands over the flat hood of the colonel’s Jeep.
“It’s from World War II,” she explained. “The colonel is restoring it. He’s been hauling it around for more years than I can remember.”
He climbed behind the steering wheel. “This is cool. I love old cars.”
She had a distinct feeling the colonel was going to adore Daniel. The idea scratched her already-raw nerves. Elliot wanted to meet her family, but she kept finding excuses to put him off. She knew the colonel would dismiss Elliot, a patent attorney, as a paper pusher. She doubted if Elliot would like her father, either. As quirky as Elliot was, he was rather intolerant of the quirks of others.
Even in the wan light Daniel’s face glowed as he examined the dashboard and stick shift. He made engine noises. The colonel would definitely like him.
“Mr. Tucker.”
He paused in his exploration. His grin was pure evil. “It really turns me on when you say my name like that.”
She leveled on him her iciest glare. “Is that supposed to reduce me to giggles?”
“Only if you think it’s funny.”
“I don’t.”
He turned on the seat so his feet rested on the running board. “What do you find funny? Is Elliot funny?”
Startled by his mention of Elliot, she drew warily aside. She didn’t like the inane idea that Daniel could read her mind. “This has nothing to do with Elliot. This has to do with your disrespectful attitude toward me.”
He sat straighter and frowned. “I don’t mean disrespect. It’s just that a beautiful woman like you—”
She thrust up a hand, her palm rigid. “Stop right there. I didn’t take this face out of a drawer and put it on just so you can get your jollies.”
He shrugged. It might have been a sheepish gesture, except his expression was anything but contrite. He looked at her the way a soldier eyed an enemy bunker—he saw a challenge. Her scalp tightened.
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, putting them nearly nose to nose. His nearness disturbed her. His alluring scent was even worse. Males didn’t affect her—she didn’t allow them to affect her.
Daniel Tucker affected her. She wanted to touch his face and explore the texture of his sensual mouth. An absurd impulse rose to plant her hands on his knees just to see how he’d react.
“Explain to me how it is you can date a guy for years and keep it casual.”
The air grew heavy and close. She wanted to peel out of her heavy coat A funny tingle began at the backs of her knees, creeping upward. She ordered herself to think about something else. Elliot—she couldn’t even remember what he looked like at the moment. Pinky. That broke her spell. She lifted her chin. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“How serious are you about him?”
She saw it now. He thought he could bed her. Even worse, naughty little speculations about his sexual prowess popped uninvited, and unwanted, into her head.
He is not desirable, she told herself firmly. He was not sexy. He was a caricature, a conceited ass—a playboy who traded on his good looks. A jerk who thought she should be flattered he deigned to