Men to Trust. Diana Palmer
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she replied, smiling.
He pulled his hat down over his eyes. “Well, I’ve played hooky as long as I can,” he said with a grimace. “I’ll get back to work before Lance comes in here and lassos me and drags me back out to the pasture. You go home at five regardless of the phone, okay?” he added. “I know you worry about your mother. You don’t need to do overtime.”
“Thanks,” she said, and meant it. “It’s hard for her to be alone in the evening. She gets scared.”
“I don’t doubt it. Oh, if you get a minute,” he added from the door, “call Calhoun Ballenger and tell him I’m sending him a donation for his campaign.”
She grinned. “I’ll be happy to do that! I’m voting for him, too.”
“Good for you.” He closed the door carefully behind him.
Violet made the call, finished up her work, and left on time. She had to run by the post office on the way home to put Duke’s correspondence into the mail.
As luck would have it, Kemp was in the lobby when she walked in the door, having just put a last-minute letter into the outgoing post.
He stopped short when he saw her, his pale blue eyes narrow and accusing. She was keenly aware that her lipstick was long gone, that her hair was sticking out in comic angles from her once-neat braid, that one leg of her panty hose was laddered. She couldn’t run into him when she looked neat and pretty, she thought miserably. To top it all off, she was wearing white jeans that were too tight and a red overblouse with ruffles that made her look vaguely clownish. She ground her teeth as she glared back at him.
“Mr. Kemp,” she said politely, and started to go around him.
He stepped right into her path. “What’s Wright been doing to you?” he asked. “You look worn to the bone.”
Her thin eyebrows arched as she registered genuine concern in that narrow gaze. She cleared her throat. “It’s roundup,” she replied.
He nodded understanding. “The Harts are breaking out in hives already,” he mused, and almost smiled. “They’ve had some problems with their exports to Japan as well. I suppose the cattle business is wearing on the nerves.”
She smiled shyly. “Everybody’s rushing to record all the pertinent information for every new calf, and there are a lot of them.”
“He’s opened a meat shop here in town,” he remarked. “It sells organic hams and sausage and bacon.”
“Yes. His employees run a Web site, too, so that he can sell his pork on the Internet.” She hesitated. Her heart was racing like mad and she felt her knees weakening just from the long, shared looks. She missed him so much. “How…how are Libby and Mabel?”
“Missing you.” He made it sound as if she’d left him in a bind.
She shifted to the other foot. If they’d been alone, she’d have had more to say about the accusing look he was giving her. But people were coming and going all around them. “Thank you. For the recommendation, I mean.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think Wright would take you on,” he said honestly. “It’s no secret that he hates having women around the ranch since the divorce.”
“Delene Crane works with him,” she replied, curious. “She’s a woman.”
“He’s known Delene since they were in college together,” he told her. “He doesn’t think of her as a woman.”
Interesting, she mused, because Delene wasn’t a bad-looking woman. She had red hair and green eyes and a milky complexion with a few freckles. She froze out the cowboys who gave her flirting glances, though. She was also strictly business with Duke, so maybe it was true that he didn’t think of her as a romantic prospect. She wondered why Delene didn’t feel comfortable around men…
“How’s your mother?” Kemp asked abruptly.
She grimaced. “She does things they told her not to do,” she lamented. “Especially lifting heavy stuff. The doctors said that she still has a tendency toward clots, despite the blood thinners they give her. They didn’t say, but I know that once a person has one or two strokes, they’re almost predisposed to have more.”
He nodded slowly. “But there are drugs to treat that, now. I’m sure your doctor is taking good care of her.”
“He is,” she had to agree.
“Your mother is special.”
She smiled. “Yes. I think so, too.”
He looked past her. “It’s clouding up. You’d better get your letters mailed, so you don’t get soaked when you leave.”
“Yes.” She looked at him with pain in her eyes. She loved him. It was so much worse that he knew, and pitied her for it. She glanced away, coloring faintly. “Yes, I’d better…go.”
Unexpectedly, he reached out and pushed back a long strand of black hair that had escaped her braid. He tugged it behind her ear, his gaze intent and solemn as he watched her heartbeat race at her bodice. He heard her breath catch at the faint contact. He felt guilty. He could have been kinder to Violet. She had enough on her plate just with her mother to care for. She cared about him. She’d shown it, in so many ways, when she worked with him. He hadn’t wanted to encourage her, or give her false hope. But she looked so miserable.
“Take care of yourself,” he said quietly.
She swallowed, hard. “Yes, sir. You, too.”
He moved aside to let her pass. As she went by, a faint scent of roses drifted up into his nostrils. Amazing how much he missed that scent around his office. Violet had become almost like a stick of furniture in the past year, she was so familiar. But at the same time, he was aware of an odd, tender nurturing of himself that he’d never had in his adult life. Violet made him think of open fireplaces in winter, of warm lamplight in the darkness. Her absence had only served to make him realize how alone he was.
She walked on to the mail slots, unaware of his long, aching stare at her back. By the time she finished her chore, he was already out the door and climbing into his Mercedes.
Violet watched him drive away before she opened the door of the post office and went outside. It was starting to rain. She’d get wet, but she didn’t care. The odd, tender encounter made her head spin with pleasure. It would be a kind thought to brighten her lonely life.
There was a lot of talk around town about Janet Collins. She’d gone missing and Libby and Curt were the subject of a lot of gossip. Jordan Powell had been seen with Libby, but nobody took that seriously. He was also seen with old Senator Merrill’s daughter, Julie, doing the social rounds. Violet wondered if Libby felt the rejection as much as Violet felt it over Kemp. Her co-worker had a flaming crush on Jordan in recent weeks, but it seemed the feeling wasn’t reciprocated.
Violet’s mother seemed to be weakening as the days passed. It was hard for Violet to work and not worry about her. She’d started going back to the gym on her way home from work three days a week, but it was only for a half hour at a time. She’d splurged on a cell phone and she kept it with her all the time now, just in case there was ever an emergency when she wasn’t home. Her mother had a hot button on the new phone at home, too, so that she could push it and speed-dial Violet.
She had her long hair trimmed and frosted, and she actually asked a local boutique owner for tips on how to make the most of her full figure. She learned that lower cut blouses helped to diminish a full bosom. She also learned that a longer jacket flattered wide hips, and that straight lines made her look taller. She experimented with hairstyles until she found one that flattered her full face, and with makeup until she learned how to use it so that it looked natural. She was changing, growing, maturing, slimming. But all of it was a means to an end, as much as she hated to admit it. She wanted Blake Kemp to miss her, want her, ache for her when he looked at her. It was a hopeless dream, but she couldn’t let go of it.