Wife For Hire. Amy J. Fetzer
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stopping before Nash. He squatted to meet their gaze and gave each of them a quick kiss.
“What have you been doing all morning?” he asked.
“Laundry,” they said, smiling.
“You never liked doing it with me.”
“But with Miss Hayley—” the girls looked at her adoringly “—it’s fun.”
“Well, we still have a ton of chores before party time, ladies.” She hooked a thumb toward the house and the girls skipped on ahead.
Nash straightened, the motion bringing him inches from her. He caught the scent of jasmine again, felt the heat of her body. He took a step back. “Party time?”
“I’ve promised them a game or two. Is it all right if they go in the pool?” At his hesitation, she added, “I’m an excellent swimmer.”
He knew that and hated to deprive the girls. “Sure, just let me know before you get in so I can check the chlorine.”
“I already did.” She turned away, not seeing his brows shoot up.
“Thanks, Miss Hayley,” the men chimed.
“You’re welcome, guys. Don’t work too hard.” She walked toward the house.
“Yeah, thanks,” came a deep drawl, and Hayley sent a look over her shoulder.
“No sweat, boss. Just doing my job.”
She wasn’t. She didn’t have to take the time to make the hands a midafternoon snack and certainly not bring it out here to them. They’d all had a decent lunch at noon. And Nash knew there was more than one person’s share of work to get done in the house. He didn’t like her calling him boss, either, then decided it would certainly remind him of the boundary between them.
Regardless of his thoughts, Nash watched her round behind shifting inside her short skirt, then dragged his gaze to his daughters. A little tinge of jealousy worked beneath his skin when the girls raced back to help her carry the basket.
“Sure was nice of her,” Beau said, and Nash glanced at him. Great. The kid had a crush on her already.
Yet in the back of his mind a little voice whispered that she was going into the pool and that meant a bathing suit. Nash turned away, swinging onto his horse and riding down to the south fence. He’d be there for a couple of hours making repairs, he told himself. Anything to keep from seeing Hayley, half-naked, in a swimsuit.
Because then he’d remember what it was like to make love to her.
Two
Strike three.
She could cook.
Nash stood in his formal dining room and stared at the spread on the table. He wasn’t sure what it was that smelled so good, yet the minute he’d entered the house, his mouth had started watering. The Hayley he’d known before couldn’t boil water and had eaten food that came out of a can or could be nuked in a microwave. Unless he’d taken her out.
It was another reminder that she wasn’t the same woman.
Behind him the ranch hands filed in, washed and shirts changed. His daughters were already sitting at their places near his, their plates prepared, beside them tall glasses of chocolate milk. He’d have to remind Hayley he preferred they didn’t overdo it with the sugar.
“Have a seat, gentleman. Dinner is served.”
Nash turned as she entered the area from the kitchen with a huge platter stacked with breaded chicken. The men scrambled for their seats as Nash slipped into his.
“I know your mamas taught you better, or am I going to have to hold this food hostage for y’all to take off those hats?” she said, eyeing them all except hatless Nash and Seth. Caps and cowboy hats disappeared under the table, and smiling with approval, she held the platter so they could serve themselves.
“What is it, Miss Hayley?” Beau asked, giving the platter a speculative look before stabbing a portion.
“Chicken Castellana. It’s a recipe from an old friend’s Sicilian nana. See, her husband, Angelo, was a barber, and during the depression people didn’t have cash, so they paid him in day-old bread, chickens, potatoes, whatever.” She shrugged, talking as she moved from man to man. “People had to have a haircut to get a job.” Her glance slid meaningfully to Ronnie and he smirked. “Anyway, Nana Josie created this recipe from the payments. It’s been cooking all afternoon.”
She stopped beside Nash and bent to offer him the platter. He served himself, avoiding looking into those eyes.
“Don’t be shy, Nash. There’s plenty more still in the oven.”
She was so close Nash felt the whisper of her breath skate down the side of his throat. He turned his head slightly and met her gaze. Her lips curved as if she knew her effect on him, and he focused on the platter, adding another piece to his plate. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” she said, then set the platter down. “The gravy is there, and help yourselves to seconds.” She went to the hutch, picking up the water pitcher and refilling the glasses before stopping beside the girls, bending to their level. “You two doing okay?”
They nodded vigorously, their mouths full. “Vegetables, too,” Hayley said. They made faces, then after a glance at their dad, nodded. She tipped her head to Nash. “How is it?”
“Incredible.” He didn’t look up.
“Sorta ticked you off, huh?”
Now he did look at her. He stared, dumbfounded for a second as he chewed.
“Admit it. You didn’t think I could handle it.”
He swallowed. “I admit to nothing.”
“Careful, Nash, your testosterone is dripping.” His gaze narrowed and she blinked sweetly, then straightened, accepting compliments as she left the room.
Nash gazed down the length of the table, realizing there was no place setting for her. He left his chair and went into the kitchen. She was seated at the worktable on a high stool, her face in a medical book as she ate. She looked like a pixie figurine, her head bowed, the fork poised. The lonely picture made his heart drop, and forced him to see how little family she’d had in her life. How many times had she dined alone? Spent a holiday alone?
“Hayley.”
She looked up.
“Aren’t you joining us?”
She gave him a patient smile. “I’m the hired help, not a regular one at that.” She’d done this kind of work enough to know it just wasn’t wise to include herself at the dinner table.
“I’m sure the girls would like it.”
“But I wouldn’t.”
His brows drew down and he stepped closer.
Her heart immediately picked up its pace. “I’m temporary, Nash. I don’t want to give the girls any ideas just because you and I knew each other once.”
“Know each other,” he corrected, his eyes speaking volumes.
In the biblical sense, the long nights they’d spent exploring each other. It was hard to erase those images and even harder right now to remember the heartache she’d suffered. Especially when he looked at her the way he was now. With heat and memory.
She put the fork down, shaking her head. “Don’t go there, please.”
He moved closer, his broad-shouldered presence blocking out the light. “Hayley.”
“No, Nash.” She tipped her head back and met his gaze.
The sheen in her sable eyes knocked the breath from his lungs.
“I