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He looked back at the dishes he was drying, and she had to resist the impulse to gasp in a breath of air. The man had a serious impact on people. She wondered if he knew.
From beneath her lowered lashes, she watched his movements. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his casual shirt to his elbows and she might not know the names of the latest Paris designers, but she did know silk when she saw it. And the heavy watch circling his corded brown wrist looked like something that never needed an advertisement.
Who was she kidding? Of course he knew his own effect.
“So what’s Joanie’s problem?” he whispered.
Hadley’s tone turned tart. “Other than being eight months pregnant by a good-for-nothing liar who made sure he beat down whatever self-confidence she had left after her father had already stomped out most of it?”
Then, because she was in no mood to let Joanie’s ex-boyfriend sour her afternoon, she shook her head and grabbed the last of the bowls. “Sorry. I just cannot abide liars. Anyway, you certainly charmed
Mrs. Ardelle. I haven’t seen her smile so much since she moved in here last year after her husband passed away.”
Dane listened to Hadley’s determinedly cheerful voice. She couldn’t abide liars. Ordinarily he’d have said the same. “And Vince Jeffries?”
“He’s been here a few months. He’s looking for work.”
“You take in strays.”
Her head swiveled around to look at him, her soft lips parted.
Soft-looking lips. Soft woman.
His fingers strangled the dish towel for a minute. Had it not been for Marlene, the Rutherford family housekeeper, he wouldn’t have known one towel from another, much less what to do with it around a pile of dishes. But Marlene hadn’t cared that he was Roth Rutherford’s heir and had assigned chores whenever it suited her.
“Everybody needs a place to call home,” Hadley said after a moment. With a quick jerk, she pulled the plug and the soapy water gurgled down the drain. “If Tiff’s provides that, then I’m happy.” She wiped down the counters, rinsed her hands and plucked the dish towel out of Dane’s hands. She stood close enough that he could smell the fragrance of her shampoo. It was clean and soft.
Just like she was.
“Come on,” she said. “We’ll get you settled in your new room.”
There was a touch of huskiness in her voice that he was smart enough to take as a warning. She might be useful for his purposes right now, but he didn’t tangle with innocent women.
They were too easily hurt.
He nodded and followed her past the staircase and around to the far side of the house. “I’m afraid you’ll have to share a bathroom,” she said as she pushed open a door and went inside. She picked up an old-fashioned key from the dresser and handed it to him as he entered. “And believe me, considering how nice you’ve been about the accident and all, I’d be happy to keep you in the tower, but—”
“I’m no Rapunzel,” he murmured.
She flushed a little, glancing at his hair. “Prince Charming, maybe.” Then she flushed even brighter. “You’ll be warmer down here, so that’s one advantage. Did you have any luggage?” Her words came so fast they nearly tumbled over each other.
“A duffel. I’ll move it right now. I didn’t unpack or anything up there, so you shouldn’t have to do much to get ready for your other guest.”
“That doesn’t matter,” she assured him quickly as she stepped back into the hall. As if she weren’t comfortable being in his room while he was in it, too. “Except for the regulars, I change the sheets and towels and stuff around here. One more doesn’t make much of a difference to me.”
It wasn’t smart of him to think of Hadley and bed sheets. Not when the conceivable reasons for that combination dragged at him in a painfully tantalizing way.
He looked over her head at the door adjacent to his. “That the bathroom?”
She slid her foot backward, putting even more inches between them. It amused him. And relieved him from having to do it himself.
“No, actually.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, but the rich brown strands fell forward again almost as quickly. “It’s my bedroom. The bathroom we’ll be sharing is between the rooms.” She ducked her head and mumbled an excuse before darting up the hallway. Seconds later he heard a phone ring somewhere in the house, only to be quickly answered.
He eyed the two doors.
Too close together.
Dane scrubbed his hand down his face. Christ.
He was in Montana to settle a score that—in his opinion—could never be settled enough. He didn’t have time for distractions.
No matter how beautifully she filled a pair of snug jeans.
Chapter Four
Stu Golightly didn’t just phone with the estimate for the repairs to Dane’s car. He brought it by himself that evening during dinner. When the man shook his head at Hadley’s invitation to stay and eat, Dane excused himself from the dining room table and followed Stu from the room.
The other man didn’t stop until he reached the front door, and then he looked as if he’d have preferred to shove Dane through it, than discuss the estimate.
Dane didn’t particularly begrudge Stu his attitude any more than he did Shane’s. He knew what it was like to feel protective. After all, he was in Montana in the first place because of that very trait. So he looked down the detailed list. “You can get a better deal on the parts. By ten percent, at least.”
Stu visibly bristled. “I don’t pad my charges.”
“I didn’t say otherwise. Call—” Damn, he very nearly said Wood Tolliver, and blamed his unusual distractedness on the pain in his head, rather than the brunette who’d been the cause of it. “Call RTM out of Indianapolis. I’ve done a lot of work with them.”
Stu’s gaze narrowed, obviously recognizing the name of the company. “They’re pretty high end.”
R & T Motor works was high end. It was also the business Dane and Wood started when they were in college and making names for themselves on the circuit. Wood may have been in charge of the day-today operations for years, now, but Dane still kept his hand in.
Some days he thought it was one of the few ways he stayed sane—focusing on something that wasn’t part of Rutherford Industries. “Ask for Stephanie,” he said. “I’ll let her know to expect your call. If she doesn’t beat your prices, don’t use RTM. Simple enough.”
The man looked as if he was trying to come up with an argument. In the end he nodded and settled his ball cap back on his head. “Tell Had that she needs to fill in for Riva on Monday morning.” He stepped out the door, hurriedly closing it against the cold evening air.
Dane slowly folded the estimate, tucked it in his pocket and returned to the dining room.
Mrs. Ardelle was chattering away again. The woman never seemed to run out of things to say. In a way she reminded him of Marlene. The new guest, Nikki Day, had arrived shortly before dinner. The auburn-haired newcomer was beautiful and well dressed and probably about Hadley’s age, he guessed. She was also pregnant, though not as far along as Joanie. Nikki sat beside her, and he gave the new guest credit for getting Joanie to lighten up enough to actually smile a little. Vince was nowhere to be seen.
Dane sat down again. He was sitting across from Hadley. Suited him. The view of her was as fine as her cooking. “Your brother said Riva needs you to work for her on Monday morning.”
She immediately nodded her head.
“Thought you said you’d be filling in at your dad’s church in the mornings for a while.”
“Right.” She passed a platter of roast beef to Joanie, murmuring that the girl needed to eat more protein. “I’ll just have to do a few hours at the garage, then a few hours at the church. Hopefully, it won’t inconvenience either one of them too much.”
Dane wondered if her father or brother had ever considered whether she’d be inconvenienced. Not that any of it was his business anyway. He deliberately focused on his meal, letting the various conversations roll over him.
“Wood Tolliver,” Mrs. Ardelle said. “The more I think about it, the more that name seems familiar to me, somehow.”
Dane smiled noncommittally. Unless she had some insight into the world of custom racing, she wouldn’t have been likely to have heard of Wood Tolliver. “Tolliver isn’t an unusual name.”
Joanie snorted a little at that. “Please. It’s not like people call you Bob Smith.”
Hadley laughed. Dane looked across at her, smiling despite himself. “I’m not the one with the unusual name,” he said. “Not compared to Ms. Golightly here.”
“And your mother’s name was really Holly?” Nikki Day asked, resting her elbows delicately on the edge of the table. “My, um, I had a friend whose parents stayed here at Tiff’s for their wedding night,” she explained. “Your mother had just recently opened for business. They were charmed by her.”
“Most people were,” Hadley agreed. Her gaze flicked to Dane, then she pushed back from the table. “Dessert coming up.”
Dane immediately rose to assist her. She looked ready to protest, but obviously had learned her lesson from earlier that day. In the kitchen she arranged the dessert plates on an enormous silver tray and settled pretty crystal cups of chocolate mousse on them.
Marlene couldn’t have done better herself, and he knew she’d studied way back when in France. “Your mom teach you to cook?”
Hadley nodded. “And I read cookbooks and stuff. A lot.” She grinned, a quick, mischievous little grin that snuck down inside him and plucked hard.
He picked up the heavy tray and jerked his head toward the dining room. “Don’t know when you have the time,” he said hoping his bluntness would dull the sharp desire he suddenly felt. “Considering how you’re always helping out someone else.”
She just lifted her shoulders and pushed open the swinging door to the dining room. “They’re my family,” she said simply.
Dane exhaled and followed her. He loved his sister fiercely. And he loved his mother, though he freely admitted that she was an acquired taste. He loved his stubborn-ass father, too, though Roth had only ever been proud of Dane for the work he’d done at Rutherford Industries.
But he could hardly fathom the simple acceptance that Hadley exhibited.
After dinner Mrs. Ardelle headed for the piano and everyone else headed for their rooms. Dane had plenty of calls stacking up on his voice mail to take care of, but when Hadley pulled on an ancient-looking flannel coat and gloves and said she was going out for a load of wood, he went after her.
“You need to learn the art of relaxing.” He yanked on his jacket as he caught up to her in the rear of the house.
She jerked, dropping the split logs she’d selected and pressed her gloved hand to her chest as she turned to see him. “Well, you know what they say. No rest for the wicked. Or something like that.”
He snorted softly and picked up the wood she’d dropped. “If there’s anything wicked about you, I’ll eat this wood.”
Her shoulders heaved a little and she leaned over, picking up more logs. “That’s kind of my problem, if the truth be known. Everyone in this town knows me.”
He was counting on it. “And the problem in that is what? Wait. Stack those logs on top of mine. You don’t need to carry in the wood yourself.”
It was too dark to see her expression, but he felt the amusement in her smile, nonetheless. “If I don’t, who will?”
He hefted the logs a little higher in his arms. “Hello?”
He could hear bewilderment in her soft laughter. “You’re much too nice to me, given the situation,” she said.
“Then go out with me.”
She bobbled the logs in her arms again, but saved them from falling. “I… excuse me?”
“You need to learn how to relax. I know how to relax. I will teach you how to relax. Over a drink. There’s gotta be a watering hole in this town somewhere.” He knew of one, quite specifically.
“Several, but—”
“It’s just a drink, Hadley. Your virtue is safe.”
She turned away, muttering something under her breath.
“What was that?”
Her shoulders lifted, then fell. She turned around to face him again. “I said that was a pity,” she blurted. “If I were less virtuous, then maybe Wendell wouldn’t be so anxious to fall in with my brothers’ plans for me. He’s called me four times just this afternoon. Four times! The man doesn’t know how to take no for an answer any more than Shane or Stu.”
“So tell them all you’re not interested. Nobody can force you to go out with someone you don’t want to go out with.”
“Go out with? Oh, believe me. If that were only as far as it goes. I told you before. They want to marry me off, and Wendell Pierce is the intended groom.” She shook her head and her dark hair bounced, gleaming in the moonlight. “Wendell knows me from way back. He knows I’m settled and quiet and, and uninteresting!”
“You settled and quiet?” He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Sweetness, you drive like a bat outta hell, and you have more energy than a swarm of ants.”
She eyed him. “Gosh. Flattery indeed.” Then, as if she regretted the impulsive words, she ducked her chin and hurried toward the house. Dust and bits of wood rained down from her armload as she went.
Dane was an expert in negotiations. He ran a billion-dollar corporation. He could sure as hell manage not to offend one twenty-something small-town girl, couldn’t he?
He found Hadley inside, stacking her wood in the iron bin in one corner of the long kitchen. He crouched down beside her and began unloading his own burden. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
She dusted her hands together and pushed to her feet, putting distance between them, and he regretted that. It was painfully obvious that—between her spurts of tart humor—he made her nervous.
“What kind of deal?” Her tone was suspicious enough that had her brothers heard it, they’d have applauded.
“I’m going to be stuck in this town for a while. You introduce me around, and if your Wendell gets the wrong idea about you in the process, we’ll both be happy.”
“Introduce you around to whom? Women?” Her lips twisted. “A man who looks like you doesn’t need introductions from me.” Rosy color filled her cheeks.
It wasn’t like him to be sidetracked by anyone, much less a blushing young brunette. “But then Wendell wouldn’t get word that your interests might lie elsewhere,” he pointed out. “And I didn’t say anything about introducing me to other women.”
Her eyebrows skyrocketed. “You want me to introduce you to men?”
He exhaled, torn between laughter and aggravation. “People,” he clarified. “Just people. Come on, Hadley. I’m a sociable guy.” He felt an unexpected pang of conscience at that particularly bald-faced lie. He knew the social games that went along with his place as CEO of Rutherford Industries, but that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed them. “It’ll help pass the time while my car’s getting fixed. You remember the car, right?”
Remorse filled her eyes. “I’m not likely to forget,” she assured.
“Well then.” He rose, too, and stepped closer to her. She held her stance, which was surprising, but good. “We go out. Have a few drinks.” To please no one but himself, he drew a long lock of hair away from her face and settled it against her wood-dusted flannel shoulder.
Her hair felt just as silky as it looked, and it took more effort than it should have to move his hand away.
“But… but aren’t you tired? You were in an accident yesterday, for pity’s sake. You surely don’t want to be going out.”
“I don’t offer to do things if I don’t want to. Agree. You learn how to relax,” he murmured. “I meet some new people. And maybe your problem with Wendell will solve itself.”
Her eyes were impossibly wide. “You talk people into doing lots of things, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Now that was true. Only person he’d never been able to talk into something was Roth.
She exhaled. “I suppose we could go to the Tipped Barrel. It’s fairly popular with some people.”
