Глава №6. От Арбата до Спиридоновки, или Прогулка по усадьбам московских миллионщиков. Андрей Монамс
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Goldilocks up and I got scared, but they didn’t. The bears around here will eat’cha up if you’re not careful.”
“Yes, well, I’m certainly glad Goldilocks found some friendly bears to play with, aren’t you?”
“I guess. Ricky Monroe kept wanting the bears to rip her head off.”
Tasha shuddered at the thought, and at the same time felt Clifford’s gaze on her. She was used to people looking at her. After all, she was a fashion model on the runways of New York and Paris and posed in front of the camera for cover shots. People admiring her—or at least the clothes she wore—wasn’t unusual.
The way Cliff looked at her was different. Not predatory. Certainly interested. But with a wary gleam suggesting she didn’t belong here.
Well, she didn’t. But every woman deserved a safe place to lick her wounds when she got dumped. Naturally, she’d called her sister, who’d suggested she fill in for Cliff’s missing housekeeper and play nanny to his little boy.
Even though she’d met Ella’s husband—Cliff’s twin—at her sister’s hasty marriage last year, Tasha hadn’t expected this version of the Swain brothers to have such an impact on her. With his narrow hips, broad shoulders and Stetson tipped back at a rakish angle on his head, he was so potently masculine, he made every man in New York City pale in comparison. The guys in Paris couldn’t hold a candle to him either.
If Tasha hadn’t been getting over her latest romantic involvement, she would have considered making a play for Clifford Swain. But she’d turned over a new leaf.
Lust was no longer enough to base a relationship on. And being a single mother was better than settling for something less, like playing second fiddle to an eighteen-year-old modeling phenom who was landing cover jobs by the handfuls.
“You said you got lost?” Cliff sauntered into the room, all long, loose limbs, cowboy boots and sexy hips.
Lost in lust, she thought before she could stop herself. “Ella gave me the directions to her place, but I must have made a wrong turn. More than once,” she admitted with a wry smile. “I swear I went by the same cow six times.”
His lips hitched up. “They tend to look alike.”
“About the seventh time around the loop, I recognized your name on the mailbox. Melissa was whiny and I was exhausted, so I thought I’d crash here and worry about Ella tomorrow. Your door was unlocked.”
“Western hospitality.”
He came closer, and she caught a whiff of him, an elemental fragrance no aftershave designer had managed to bottle—a combination of leather and sweat and something she suspected was pure sex appeal.
“I’ll drive you out to the ranch if you want to see your sister tonight,” he offered.
“I hate to wake Melissa. Why don’t I just call Ella and let her know I got this far? After all, I’ll be staying here.” She shot a look at Stevie and grinned. “Goldilocks and her mom need someplace to hang out so the mean ol’ bears won’t get ’em. What d’ya think?”
The boy giggled. “I don’t think you want to sleep in my daddy’s bed. It’s not big enough for two people.”
To Tasha’s amazement, she felt the heat of a blush stain her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I thought that was the guest—”
“It is. I’ve been sleeping there the past couple of—” He snatched off his hat and tossed it on an end table. “Look, you can take the guest room. I’ll sleep in the master bedroom and Melissa can sleep—”
“She can sleep with me, Dad. I’ve got an extra bed in my room. She might get scared or somethin’ if she was all alone.”
The boy’s generosity touched Tasha’s heart. What a sweet child! Raising his son with no mother around, Cliff had still managed to rear a sensitive youngster who could empathize with the fears of others. That was a very special attribute few people—particularly men—could claim.
“I think she’d like that, Stevie,” she said. “Thank you for offering.”
Cliff’s scowl telegraphed his disapproval, and Tasha wondered why.
Stevie had plopped himself down on the couch, swinging his feet, and one shoe caught a handle on the carryall purse she’d left there earlier, toppling it over. The contents spilled out, including a paperback she’d finished reading last night.
“Careful, son.” Automatically, Cliff stooped to pick up the mess Stevie had made and his hand fell on a magazine that had fallen out of the purse. Tasha’s image gazed back at him from the cover with a come-hither smile. One creamy shoulder was bare, her salmon-colored dress slinky, sophisticated and sexy as the devil’s own. The headline on the women’s fashion magazine shouted Bright Colors for Summer. His mouth instantly went as dry as a hot summer day and his blood heated to match the temperature.
“Hey, look, Dad. That’s Tasha on the front of the magazine.”
She took the magazine from his fingers that had gone nerveless. “I spotted this at a convenience store where we stopped for a soda. I never know which shot they’ll use.” She studied the photo with a critical eye. “Not too shabby, is it?”
“You’re real pretty,” Stevie said.
Tasha gave the boy a warm smile. “Why, thank you, honey.”
“You’re a cover model,” Cliff said as though that weren’t entirely obvious.
“Mostly I do fashion work, designers’ shows, that sort of thing.” She tapped the magazine. “This was a nice gig, though. Gives me some national visibility, which I could use right about now.”
Visibility was right! On every magazine stand across the country, Tasha would be smiling at passersby, tempting men to pick her up and indulge in a little fantasy. He could just hear the raucous laughter and catcalls when the guys at Sal’s Bar and Grill heard she was his housekeeper.
“Nice gig” was a total understatement. He wasn’t an expert, but he’d guess a national cover like this would bring big bucks.
He plowed his fingers through his hair, stiff from the sweat and dirt of a roundup. This was never going to work. Surely if he asked around a little more, he’d find somebody more suitable to be his housekeeper until Sylvia came back—somebody who wouldn’t tie his libido in knots.
Or draw a lot of attention just when he was starting his election campaign for county sheriff. Granted, so far he was running unopposed and had the support of the incumbent sheriff, who was planning to retire. Still, his personal life would be under a microscope for the next few weeks. Having a beautiful single woman living under his roof was bound to raise eyebrows.
He knew his sister-in-law would watch out for Stevie if he needed her to. But Ella had a new baby, and the main ranch was ten miles by road from Cliff’s house, which was located in the corner of the spread closest to town. When he worked nights or had a meeting to attend, he’d have to pick up Stevie, interrupting his sleep to bring him home.
There had to be some other option.
“Look, I’m not entirely sure—”
She bent to scoop a wallet and fallen keys back into her purse, her low-cut neckline blousing out to reveal the swell of her breasts, and Cliff’s tongue got tangled with his good intentions.
“I didn’t bring our luggage in since I wasn’t sure where you’d want us to sleep. Would you mind helping me?”
Stevie hopped down from the couch. “I’ll help you,” he volunteered.
Blessing Stevie with another smile, which perversely Cliff wished had been meant for him, she said, “I think I’m going to enjoy Western hospitality as long as I’m here.”
She took the boy’s hand, and the two of them headed toward the front door. Cliff didn’t have