To Wear His Ring: Circle of Gold / Trophy Wives / Dakota Bride. Wendy Warren
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Ranger and a self-made millionaire with alleged mob ties.”
She only smiled demurely. “I have unique friendships.”
“You could put it that way,” he said, diverted. “Is the millionaire your lover?”
She went scarlet and her jaw dropped.
“Oh, hell, never mind,” he said, apparently disturbed that he’d asked the question and uncomfortable at the reaction it drew. “That’s none of my business. All right, Kasie…” He hesitated. “Kasie. What’s it short for?”
“I don’t know,” she blurted out. “It’s my actual name.”
One eye narrowed. “The millionaire’s name is K.C.,” he pointed out. “And he’s at least forty.”
“Thirty-seven. He saved my mother’s life, while she was carrying me,” she said finally. “He wasn’t always a millionaire.”
“Yes, I know, he was a professional soldier, a mercenary.” His eyes narrowed even more. “Want to tell me about it?”
“Not really, no,” she confided.
He shook his head. “Well, if nothing else, you’ll be efficient. You’re also less of a distraction than the rest of them. There’s nothing I hate more than a woman who wears a skirt up to her briefs to work and then complains when men stare at her if she bends over. We have dress codes at our businesses and they’re enforced—for both sexes.”
“I don’t have any skirts that come up to my…well, I don’t wear short ones,” she blurted out.
“So I noticed,” he said with a deliberate glance at her long dress.
She fumbled with her purse while he went over the résumé one last time. “All right, Kasie, you can start Monday at eight-thirty. Did John tell you that the job requires you to live here?”
“No!”
His eyebrows arched. “Not in his room, of course,” he added just to irritate her, and then looked satisfied when she blushed. “Miss Parsons, who has charge of my daughters, lives in. So does Mrs. Charters who does the cooking and housekeeping. We have other part-time help that comes infrequently. Board and meals are provided by us, in addition to your salary.” He named a figure that made Kasie want to hold on to something. It was astronomical compared to what she’d made working at the drugstore part-time. “You’ll be a private secretary,” he added. “That means you may have to travel with us from time to time.”
“Travel?” Her face softened.
“Do you like to travel?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. I loved it when I was little.”
She wondered by the look he gave her if he assumed that her parents had been wealthy. He could not know, of course, that they were both deceased.
“Do you want the job?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“All right. I’ll tell the others they can leave.” He got to his feet, elegant and lithe, moving with a grace that was unequaled in Kasie’s circle of acquaintances. He opened the office door, thanked the other young women for coming and told them that the position had been filled. There was a shuffle of feet, some murmuring, and the front door closed.
“Come on, Kasie,” Gil said. “I’ll introduce you to…”
“Daddy!” came a wail from the end of the hall. A little girl with disheveled long blond hair came running and threw herself at Gil, sobbing.
He picked her up, and his whole demeanor changed. “What is it, baby?” he asked in the most tender tone Kasie had ever heard. “What’s wrong?”
“Me and Jenny was playing with our dollies on the deck and that bad dog came up on the porch and he tried to bite us!”
“Where’s Jenny?” he demanded, immediately threatening.
A sobbing little voice answered him as the younger girl came toddling down the hall rubbing her eyes with dirty little fists. She reached up to Gil, and he picked her up, too, oblivious to her soiled dress and hands.
“Nothing’s going to hurt my babies. Did the dog bite either of you?” Gil demanded.
“No, Daddy,” Bess said.
“Bad doggie!” Jenny sobbed. “Make him go away!”
“Of course I will!” Gil said roughly, kissing little cheeks with a tenderness that made Kasie’s heart ache.
A door opened and John Callister came down the hall, looking very unlike the friendly man Kasie knew from the drugstore. His pale eyes were glittering in his lean, dark face, and he looked murderous.
“Are they all right?” he asked Gil, pausing to touch the girls’ hair. “It was that mangy cur that Fred Sims insisted on bringing with him when he hired on. I got between it and the girls and it tried to bite me, too. I called Sims up to the house and told him to get rid of it and he won’t, so he’s fired.”
“Here.” Gil handed his girls to his brother and started down the hall with quick, measured steps.
John stared after him. “Maybe Sims will make it to his truck before Gil gets him,” he murmured. “But I wouldn’t bet on it. Are my babies all right?” he asked, kissing their little damp cheeks as the girls clung to either shoulder.
“Bad old doggie,” Bess sobbed. “Our Missie never bites people!”
“Missie’s a toy collie,” John explained to a silent Kasie with a smile. “She lives indoors. Nothing like that vicious dog Sims keeps. We’ve had trouble from it before, but Sims was so good with horses that we put up with it. Not any more. We can’t let it endanger the girls.”
“If it would come right up on the porch and try to bite them, it doesn’t need to be around children,” Kasie agreed.
The girls looked at her curiously.
“Who are you?” Bess asked.
“I’m Kasie,” she replied with a smile. “Who are you?”
“I’m Bess,” the child replied. “That’s Jenny. She’s just four,” she added, indicating the smaller child, whose hair was medium-length and more light brown than blond.
“I’m very glad to meet you both,” Kasie said, smiling warmly. “I’m going to be Mr. Callister’s secretary,” she added with an apologetic glance at John. “Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” John asked amusedly. “I only flog secretaries during full moons.”
Her eyes crinkled with merriment and she grinned.
“Gil won’t let me hire secretaries because I have such a bad track record,” John confessed. “The last one turned out to be a jewel thief. You, uh, don’t like jewels?” he added deliberately.
She chuckled. “Only costume jewelry. And unless you wear it, we shouldn’t have a problem.”
There was a commotion outside and John grimaced. “He’ll come back in bleeding, as usual,” he muttered. “I just glare at people. Gil hits.” He gave Kasie a wicked grin. “Sometimes he hits me, too.”
The girls giggled. “Oh, Uncle Johnny,” Bess teased, “Daddy never hits you! He won’t even hit us. He says little children shouldn’t be hitted.”
“Hit,” Kasie corrected absently.
“Hit,” Bess parroted, and grinned. “You’re nice.”
“You’re nice, too, precious,” Kasie said, reaching out to smooth back the disheveled hair. “You’ve got tangles.”
“Can you make my hair like yours?” Bess asked, eyeing Kasie’s braid. “And tie it with a pink ribbon?”