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Wade’s glance darted back to her, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve heard a similar suggestion once or twice.”
She should have won an Oscar for the innocence of her expression. “Still, I’m looking forward to working with her.”
“Then let’s hope you enjoy her father just as much.”
He delivered the words in a quiet, warning tone. Leah didn’t feel intimidated, but she did acknowledge the message with a sharp nod. Rhonda’s earlier quip ran through her mind. Being around her sexy, single daddy would have some...interesting...advantages.
Yeah, right.
He was certainly single, and more than sexy, but she doubted those gray eyes would turn smoky and his voice husky because of her. Not that she wanted such a reaction from him, of course, but she suspected this would be one tough assignment from the get-go.
Wade looked at his watch as Myra Jo returned, bearing several brochures. “We need to get going for now. Myra Jo will give you a call. I believe she wants a lunch catered for her sorority friends, so she’ll contact you to make arrangements.”
With barely time to set an appointment and say their goodbyes, Wade ushered Myra Jo away. Leah stood there, a little dazed, until they disappeared from sight.
Blast it, he’d done it again! With a few words, the man had stolen her composure. That was simply not acceptable. She’d worked for the hard kind before and managed not to get out of sorts. Getting perturbed at this early stage was not a good sign. It would have helped if Wade were old and crotchety, but since that wasn’t the case, she’d have to deal sternly with her improper responses to his unfortunate good looks.
Rhonda rejoined her, and the task ahead of them forced Leah to put Wade Mackey from her mind. Except she couldn’t quite banish the picture of a rugged, handsome cowboy who looked about as approachable as a bull...right before the gate was pulled.
Wade pulled the gate shut with an irritated jerk and headed for the kitchen, amazed that a week had passed. Sometimes he wondered where all the peace and quiet he tried to guard so fiercely had disappeared to. He warned himself to be careful or he’d land himself in the hospital again with pneumonia.
He wanted to believe he’d learned his lesson, but he glanced at the skyline and shook his head. The sun hadn’t even made its appearance and he was already at work. He’d arrived home late last night to have Myra Jo tell him the hot tub wasn’t working and her sorority party was the next day—in a few hours, in fact—and Wade had had a hard time teasing her out of her the-world-is-going-to-end mood.
He went into the kitchen and leaned back against the cool ceramic counter, every tile of which had been laid and grouted with his own two hands. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to ignore the coffeepot gurgling behind him, tempting him to check. As usual, his patience ran out before the water in the reservoir, and he poured a mug while drops danced and scuttled on the hot plate. After returning the decanter, he headed back out the door into the predawn coolness.
He’d had to leave from the bndal fair and head directly to the airport to catch his flight to Midland-Odessa. His meeting had gone well with the man who owned the black Angus bull Wade had his sights on, but he was perturbed by the frequency with which his thoughts had been interrupted by the memory of one Leah Houston. In the end, he’d left without the bull because it seemed a stupid time to start indulging his whim for a purebred herd.
Wade paused, taking a careful sip of the strong, hot brew as he watched the gradual lightening of the sky above the scrub-covered hills. There was something amusing about the demarcation between his manicured lawn and the beginnings of the rough soil and tenacious plants of the Texas hill country. Without constant attention, the fragile yard would quickly be taken over by the tough range grasses that defied the rocky soil.
Much like he felt his life was being taken over, at times.
So when had his baby girl grown up? Hadn’t he been a band booster and Future Farmers of America sponsor just yesterday? He clearly remembered sitting at the kitchen table, poring over course catalogs with her, back in the days when his opinion had mattered.
What had happened to the giggling girl who could rein a horse with one hand and hold a portable phone with the other? Somehow she had turned into a beautiful, stubborn woman who wouldn’t listen to her daddy when he told her she was picking the wrong man to marry.
Which reminded him—just how had he convinced himself that his attraction to Leah at Tammy’s wedding had merely been a healthy man’s reaction to a beautiful woman? He’d only attended out of obligation to Tammy, who had been one of Myra Jo’s best friends since they were gangly little girls.
But he’d been delighted by the diversion Leah had provided. She’d been cool, contained, an economy of motion, and he’d had the absurd desire to ruffle her feathers, to put a chink in the perfect armor she’d worn around herself. His reaction had surprised him. In fact, he still wondered what it was about her that intrigued him so.
The easy answer was that he was darn near celibate these days. He hardly saw Ysabel anymore, not with the travel demands her new promotion put on her. Even so, his relationship with Ysabel had always been more of a deep, abiding friendship with a little sex thrown in—hardly the typical dating couple, he was sure. So was he drawn to Leah because his body longed to be with a soft, sensual woman, or because he was drawn to her calm, professional demeanor in the midst of all the wedding hysteria? Since he liked to think of himself as being mature enough to handle his sex drive, he wanted to believe the latter.
Yeah, right.
And maybe her lush figure had stood out among the line of nearly anorexic sticks in attendance like a rose in full bloom in a vase full of cattails.
Much more likely.
Seeing Leah and Myra Jo together had also reinforced his concern for his daughter. She was dangerously thin. Not that her mother was any help. The rare times Myra Jo saw Julie, the first words out of Julie’s mouth contained a question about whether Myra Jo had gained weight or not. He’d forced himself to stay quiet and wait until after the witch was gone to reassure his baby girl of her intelligence and her beauty. Just thinking about his ex-wife was enough to make his neck ache.
Wade took one last swallow of coffee and threw the dregs from his cup onto the lawn. If he didn’t get busy, Leah would be arriving with her crew to find the pool area a mess and the hot tub still not working. He ignored the funny trip of his pulse at the thought of seeing her again. After all, hadn’t he just convinced himself that there was nothing unusual about his reaction to the curvy brunette?
As he worked on the pump in its crowded little shed, he reminded himself with each twist of the wrench that he’d better get his libido under control. He might have allowed himself a small fantasy or two at the Griffen wedding, but Leah worked for him now, and he wasn’t about to let any nonsense happen.
“Excuse me...” a hesitant voice said from the doorway.
He knew who owned the voice, even though the bright sun backlit Leah’s form and hid her face in shadows. Her full curves cast an intriguing picture, and he was stunned as the desire to find out what her softness would feel like if pressed between him and, say, the nearest wall ripped through him.
He pulled himself up short, amazed by the suddenness and intensity of his reaction. Hadn’t he just told himself to get his thoughts under control?
At the rate things were going, this wedding would be the death of him.
Two
“Excuse me,” Leah repeated, peering into the dim room. “Do you work here?”
She groaned when the man stood up and her eyes adjusted from the brilliant sunshine. She felt like a fool for asking Wade Mackey if he worked there, but he was supposed to be out of town.
“I’m sorry, Wade, I didn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He stepped outside the pump house with her and retrieved his shirt. “Much to Myra Jo’s disappointment, I try hard not to look the part of the landed gentry.”
Now there was the unvarnished truth. If there was one thing Wade Mackey looked like, it was a dyed-in-the-wool cowboy. Make that Cowboy, with a capital C, she amended as she watched him slip the blue chambray shirt over his muscular arms and broad chest. Her mouth went dry as she watched his long fingers work the buttons, slowly hiding the enticing view from her.
“I take it you’re ready to set up for the wingding.”
Leah nodded, then cleared her throat before adding, “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
“No bother at all. I was getting the hot tub running before Myra Jo calls in the National Guard to contain the disaster.”
She tried not to chuckle, but she couldn’t help it. “So is it safe to stand down from red alert?”
“Yeah, I think so. I was just about to fire things up and make sure. Did you need my help?”
“Oh, no, I just wanted to be sure it was all right for me to get started. We’ve got a lot to do before the girls arrive.”
“Help yourself to anything you need. I can call some of the boys up from the bunkhouse if you’d like.”
“Heavens, no, but thanks for the offer. I wouldn’t dream of taking the men away from their duties.”
“Their duties are to do whatever I tell them to do.”
Leah focused sharply on his words. In a second’s span, the good ol’ boy had been replaced by the boss. And she strongly doubted the warning she’d heard had been her imagination.
“Be that as it may, I have things under control,” she said in a polite tone. There was always some jockeying for position at the start of any job, and Leah had to be careful to establish her inability to be intimidated. Her fleeting hope that Wade’s tenseness at the convention center had been a momentary thing faded as fast as the dew under the sweltering Texas sun.
“Then I’ll leave you to your work. By the way,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back to his repairs, “get with me before you leave. We need to talk without Myra Jo around.”
“Fine. I’ll see you early this afternoon and we can visit.”
Leah walked toward the house to start her crew at their tasks, replaying the last few moments in her head. There was no doubt she had just been ordered—politely, of course—to be available to receive her instructions. Leah had never dreamed she would be working exclusively with Myra Jo. Since the girl’s mother was living in Dallas, it was easy to extrapolate Daddy Wade would be the PIC, otherwise known as the parent in charge.
Leah found that during the course of the morning she could hardly keep her mind off her coming meeting with him. She directed the luncheon on autopilot, and, thank goodness, everything went off flawlessly. But by the time the last cup of coffee had been served, and Myra Jo and her sorority sisters were lounging by the pool, Leah’s nerves were stretched thin.
With a trepidation she rarely felt, she went to the house to find Wade. The only person she found inside was a young woman who spoke little English. Leah caught uno momento, por favor and then Se?or Mackey. The girl pointed down the hall so Leah smiled and said, “Gracias,” then headed in that direction.
Instead of finding Wade’s office, however, she walked straight into his bedroom. The decor was unabashedly masculine. From the cream-and-blue curtains to the massive wooden furniture, it emanated strength. The faint smell of toothpaste and aftershave hung in the air. She felt like a fool for blushing as she stared at the rumpled sheets and comforter on the king-size bed, only to have her uneasiness increase when the image of him standing at the sink, shaving, filled her mind.
She quickly returned to the center of the house, ill at ease with her unintentional snooping, to find an office also carrying Wade’s unmistakable stamp. Although the smell of leather and rich mahogany furniture weren’t uniquely male, in this case she had little doubt who usually sat behind the large desk, his dark head bent over papers stacked in seemingly haphazard piles.
Her inspection was interrupted by the excited yips of a beautiful border collie. The dog came into the office and danced around Leah’s legs on dainty feet. Leah couldn’t help but grin.
“Some guard dog you are!” she scolded. The dog was clearly unimpressed, for her hind end only wagged harder as Leah read the metal tag shaped like the state of Texas attached to the collar.
“Where’s the boss man, Spoiled Rotten? Where’s Daddy?”
Rotten’s black-tipped ears perked up, and she raced around the desk to jump into the chair.
“I know this is his office, silly.”
But the collie merely circled in the chair and barked.
“All right, all right.” Refusing to believe she was conversing with a dog, Leah sat on one of the two matching wingbacks facing the large desk. After five minutes, she thought about finding the maid again, but decided that would be futile. After five more minutes of crossing and uncrossing her legs, she finally gave Wade’s stand-in a glare.
“Look, he may be the boss, but that doesn’t give him the right to keep me cooling my heels.”
Rotten just wagged her tail.
With a frustrated sigh, she wrote Wade a note and tore the page from her day planner. She included a business card before placing them in a relatively clear space on his blotter. With a final pat on Rotten’s silky head, she went home.
Her drive was uneventful, but as she neared Austin, Leah began to regret leaving without finding Wade. She couldn’t afford to mess up this opportunity to redeem her reputation, but at the same time, she wasn’t a servant at Wade’s beck and call. She had things to do, and waiting on an autocratic cowboy wasn’t one of them—even if that stubborn cowboy held her career in his hands.
The phone was ringing when she unlocked the door to her office. She glanced at her neat, black-lacquer desk and her floral print couch and armchairs. Elegantly draped white tiebacks muted the bright sunshine, creating an exquisite decor. Oddly, she couldn’t stop the image of dark wood and stacked papers from flashing across her mind.
She almost didn’t answer the persistent ringing—she had planned to use this rare weekend with no events scheduled to catch up on her paperwork, but her conscience prevailed.
“Leah Houston.”
“I thought I told you I wanted to talk with you.”
So much for chitchat.
“You did, and I tried to find you. When I couldn’t, I left a note on your desk.”
“I know, I smelled your perfume.”
Leah couldn’t stop the thrill that ran up her spine.
“I was in the barn,” he continued. “Someone should have told you.”
“The only person I found was your maid, and we had a little trouble communicating.”
“That would be Amalia, my foreman’s daughter. We’re working on her English since she wants to go to college next year.” He paused. “We have a ways to go.”
She was surprised by the dryly affectionate tone in his voice. He already had a habit of doing that...surprising her. She didn’t like it.
“Yes, well, my Spanish is exceptionally rusty, and I’m not psychic, so I apologize for missing you.” Feeling a little silly, she crossed her fingers before saying, “I can come back later this afternoon, if you’d like.”
“No, I’d rather meet without Myra Jo around, and her friends have left.”
She released a silent breath and uncrossed her fingers.
“How about dinner this evening instead?”
She frowned at the phone. So much for luck....
“I don’t—”
“If you’ll give me directions to your place, I can pick you up about eight.”
Leah took a deep breath and held it. As she slowly exhaled, she reminded herself that she had worked with difficult clients before. Sometimes she had to compromise to get what she wanted. Reluctantly, she gave him instructions to her condo.
Although she tried to work, it soon became clear she wasn’t going to get anything accomplished. Her mind wouldn’t stay on task. Visions of Wade—his naked chest bathed in the morning sun, a sardonic twist curving his lips—kept appearing before her eyes. Forty-two-year-old men were supposed to have the beginnings of a paunch and receding hairlines. They certainly weren’t supposed to look as though they could pose for fitness magazines.
With a frustrated sigh, she repacked her briefcase and headed home.
It wasn’t until she was sitting on her bed some hours later, gathering one leg of her panty hose in her fingers and mourning the loss of her lazy evening of air-popped popcorn and channel surfing, that Leah realized how tense she was.
Bra, hose, slip, low-heeled pumps, jewelry—the works—when she could be in old sweats and her favorite holey red socks. She tugged on a rayon coatdress and artfully tucked a silk scarf into the deep neckline. She had no idea what Mr. Mackey had in mind, but this was a dinner meeting, not a dinner date.
She had just clasped her watch around her wrist when the doorbell rang. She checked her appearance in the mirror and smiled wryly at her reflection. He was punctual, she could say that for him.
She opened the door to find her breath taken away once again. Half-naked, he had been nearly indescribable. In creased black jeans, a white dress shirt open at the neck, a sports jacket and boots, Wade was nothing short of yummy. The black Stetson he reached up to remove from his head made him the quintessential cowboy.
And she’d purged cowboys from her fantasy list a long time ago, she reminded herself. She wanted a nineties man, an urbane one, one who treated her as an equal, a partner. Cowboys weren’t known for their modern mind-sets.
It took a stern mental rap to get her hand off the knob and welcome him inside. Her fortitude returned when his gaze raked over her dress and she had the distinct impression she’d lost marks on his tally stick.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. Nice place.”
“But not your style,” she offered helpfully.
“No, I reckon not.”
“Let me grab my purse, then, and we’ll get going.”
Once outside, she was ready to find a pickup truck waiting. What she hadn’t expected was a bright yellow Mustang. She hadn’t taken Wade for the sports car type, but maybe she’d misjudged him. Could her perceptions be that far off?
