скачать книгу бесплатно
“No. He lives off the rents from a handful of properties around town that have been in the Winslow family for generations. In fact, the Texas Cattleman’s Club sits on Winslow’s land. Mellie helps out with the leasing company now and then, but I think she started her own business in order to keep as far away from him as possible.”
“No mother in the picture?”
“She died a long time ago. I imagine she left her daughter some kind of nest egg that allowed Mellie to start her business. The family used to be financially solvent, but Mellie’s dad has almost destroyed everything. Booze mostly, but gambling, too.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” After taking a bite of pie, Case moved on to another subject. “What do you know about Samson Oil and their connection to Nolan Dane? I hear he’s handling a lot of land sales for them.”
Nathan nodded. “I’ve heard it, too. Dane seems a decent sort. And his roots are here. So I assume he’s trustworthy. Still, Samson Oil is not a household name. No one seems to know much about them.”
“Do me a favor and keep an eye on Dane and the Samson Oil situation. Something about that whole thing seems a little off to me...”
* * *
Thursday morning Case found himself pacing the halls of his way-too-big-for-one-man house. At least half a dozen times he’d pulled out his phone to call Mellie Winslow and cancel her services. But he couldn’t think of a single explanation that wouldn’t make him sound like a paranoid idiot, so he’d resisted the impulse to wave her off.
Relishing his privacy was one thing. But if he continued to keep women out of his house, he’d wind up a withered, curmudgeonly octogenarian with a fortune in the bank and a cold, lonely existence. Still...old habits were hard to break.
Mellie arrived five minutes before their arranged appointment time. He’d have to give her points right off the bat for promptness. When he opened the door at her knock, he blinked momentarily.
It could have been a reaction to the blinding midmorning sun. But more probably, it was the sight of a slender, smiling woman in knee-length navy shorts and a navy knit top piped with lime green. On her feet she wore navy Keds with emerald laces.
The name of her business was embroidered above one breast. A breast that he didn’t notice. Not at all.
He cleared his throat. “Come on in. I fixed us some iced tea.” Though it was November, the day was extremely hot and muggy.
“Thank you.” Mellie carried a large plastic tote loaded with various cleaning supplies.
“Leave that, why don’t you? We’ll sit down in the kitchen. I hope that’s not too informal.”
“Of course not.”
Mellie seemed at ease when she took a seat. Thankfully, she tucked those long, tanned legs out of sight beneath the table. The back of his neck started to sweat. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and get to work.
He sat down on the opposite side of the table and held out a piece of paper. “Here’s a rundown of my priorities. Feel free to add things as you see anything that needs attention.”
His newest employee glanced over the list. With her gaze cast downward, he could see how long her lashes were. “This looks good,” she said. “I’ll start out working full days for a couple of weeks until I get everything deep-cleaned and organized. After that we can talk about how often you’d like me to come.”
Case caught himself before his mind raced down a totally inappropriate path. Perhaps Nathan was right. Maybe Case had gone too long without sex. Because everything that came out of Mellie Winslow’s mouth sounded like an invitation.
Case cleared his throat. “I was at the diner and saw Nathan the other day. The sheriff had good things to say about you and your business...that you were completely trustworthy.”
“How did that come up in conversation? Were you investigating me?”
“No, no, no,” he said, backpedaling rapidly. “But you can’t fault me for asking what he knew about you.”
She stood up, her expression going from affronted to glacial in seconds. “In the folder I gave you several days ago there were half a dozen references. Any one of those people could have vouched for me. It wasn’t really a police matter, Mr. Baxter.”
“I’ve offended you,” he said, surprised at her reaction.
She tossed his list at him. “If you’re going to constantly keep tabs to make sure I haven’t cleaned out your safe or absconded with a priceless painting, then I don’t think this is going to work out. Good day, Mr. Baxter.”
Before he could react, she spun on her heel and headed for the front door, her ponytail bouncing with each angry step.
“Wait.” Belatedly, he sprang to his feet and strode after her, whacking his hip on the corner of the kitchen table. “Wait, Mellie.”
He caught up with her in the foyer as she picked up her supplies. “Don’t leave,” he said. “We agreed to a trial period.”
“Shortest one on record,” she snapped.
He really had no choice but to grab her arm in a gentle grip. “I’m sorry,” he said...as forcefully as he knew how. “If you leave, I’ll sue for breach of contract.” He said it with a smile to let her know he was joking. But Mellie Winslow didn’t look the least bit amused.
Wiggling free of his hold, she faced him, her expression turbulent. “I’m proud of my business. It’s been built on word of mouth and the quality of the employees I hire. Keep N Clean has never had a single complaint of anything going missing...or of anything being damaged, for that matter.”
Case rarely made a misstep, but he knew this was a bad one. “I am sincerely sorry. I shouldn’t have asked the sheriff about you.”
“Amanda Battle is a friend of mine. Do you understand that I’m embarrassed?”
He did. For the first time, he looked at his actions from Mellie’s perspective. To a Texan, honor was everything. She had a right to be upset.
“Let’s start over,” he said.
She stared at him. “Under one condition. No trial period. You sign the contract today.”
The negotiator in him was impressed. But more importantly, as a man, he found her bold confidence arousing. Everything about her was appealing. In other circumstances, he would have made an effort to get to know her more intimately.
Mellie Winslow, however, was here to put his house in order, not warm his bed. “I begin to see why your business is so successful. Very well, Ms. Winslow.” He held out his hand. “You’ve got a deal.”
Touching her was his next mistake. Awareness sizzled between them. Her skin was smooth and warm, her hand small and feminine in his grasp. He maintained the contact a few seconds longer than necessary.
When he released her and she stepped back, for the first time, he saw uncertainty in her eyes. “I probably overreacted,” she muttered. “I have a temper.”
A grin tugged the corners of his mouth. “So the red hair is the real deal?”
“It is. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so touchy.”
They stood there staring at each other, the air rife with things best left unspoken. “I should go,” he said. “And let you get started.”
She nodded. “If I have any questions, is it okay to text you?”
“Of course.”
Her green eyes with a hint of gray warmed slightly. “I’ll try not to bother you.”
Too late for that. He picked up his keys from the table beside the front door. “See you later, Mellie Winslow. Good luck with my house.”
Three (#ulink_11efd4f4-d1d1-504b-9bf5-801447f44194)
Mellie watched him go with mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was much easier to familiarize herself with a new house if the owner was not underfoot. Still, she wouldn’t have minded if her new boss had lingered. She was curious about Case Baxter. Even though he was an arrogant, know-it-all male.
He was an intriguing combination of down-to-earth cowboy and high-powered businessman. It was no secret he was worth millions.
From what she’d heard around town, in addition to running his massive and wildly successful cattle operation, Case liked investing, particularly in small businesses. He believed in supporting the local economy. After the tornado—when the banks were stretched thin giving out loans—Case had floated some cash around the community, as well.
People in Royal liked and respected Case Baxter. Which explained his recent election as president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. The newspaper had run a bio along with the article announcing the results. Mellie knew that Case was thirty-six, which made him seven years her senior.
The age gap wasn’t significant, except for the fact that she still felt as though she was starting out, while Case was a man in his prime...in every way that counted.
Shrugging off her absorption with the sexy cowboy, she made herself focus on the job at hand. Case’s home was a stunning example of what could happen when the past was carefully preserved even amidst modern improvements. Unfortunately, the beauty of the old house was obscured by clutter.
Judging by the kitchen, Case apparently grabbed only breakfast and lunch at home. Presumably, he ate dinner out most nights. She found orange juice and milk in the fridge and a couple of boxes of cereal in the cabinet. Lunch items were similarly sparse. Aside from pizzas and a couple of steaks in the freezer, his larder was woefully bare.
There was no reason in the world for her to feel sorry for Case Baxter. The man had everything he wanted or needed. He could hire a full-time chef if he liked. But the thought of him rattling around this big old house on his own gave her a twinge.
Not many men had the gift of making a home cozy and warm. Case was a Texas bachelor. Macho. Authoritative. Accustomed to giving orders and running his ranch. He wasn’t the kind to bake cookies or pick flowers.
That mental image made her chuckle. Time to get to work.
She started with the dining room, since it seemed the most straightforward. Case had instructed her to pitch all the junk mail into the recycle bin and to keep only the things that looked personal or otherwise important. Though the stacks of envelopes, catalogs and circulars were high, anybody with half a brain could sort through this kind of stuff in no time.
When she was done, there were maybe a dozen pieces of real mail remaining. She carried them down the hall and put them on Case’s desk, a beautiful antique rolltop. His office was curiously impersonal. No knickknacks. No photographs, not even of his parents.
That was the thing about cleaning someone’s house. It was an oddly intimate activity. She understood suddenly why a man like Case had been hesitant about hiring help. If the state of his home was any indication, he was a guarded man, one who didn’t easily reveal his secrets.
By the time she made it to his bedroom, she had spent most of the day in only three rooms. That was no surprise, really. Decluttering was a slow process, especially when it involved someone else’s belongings. But she had been successful. The living room and dining room were now spotless, as was Case’s study.
It was past time for her to leave, so his bedroom would have to wait. But she did take a moment to gather discarded clothing and carry the items to the laundry room. Tomorrow that would be her first priority.
She paused in the doorway, lingering a moment, unable to help herself. The man’s bed was hedonistic. An enormous carved four-poster that looked Spanish in origin dominated the room. No expense had been spared in the bed linens. The ecru sheets and thick, fluffy coffee-brown comforter were both masculine and luxurious.
The covers were tangled, as if their owner had passed a restless night. In the jumble of clothing she’d picked up off the floor and from a chair and in the bathroom, there were no pajamas. Maybe Case Baxter slept in the nude.
With her face hot and her stomach jumpy, Mellie went back and made the bed quickly before retreating, content to leave this battlefield for another day. Never before had she taken such an intense interest in a client’s sleeping arrangements. Her imagination ran rampant, imagining Case’s big, tanned body sprawled against those whisper-soft sheets.
She swallowed hard, feeling the unmistakable rush of sexual arousal. This was bad. Very bad. Not only was she too busy for any kind of relationship, sexual or otherwise...but Case was one of Royal’s most eligible bachelors. He wasn’t likely to be interested in the hired help.
Mellie’s family went way back in Royal, maybe as far back as Case’s did. Despite that, when she eventually married and started a family, she wanted an ordinary man, one who would have time to be a daddy...a man who was interested in home and hearth.
As far as she could tell, Case had tried marriage and found it lacking. He’d be unlikely to dip his toes into that water again anytime soon, if ever. And since she wasn’t the kind of woman who was comfortable having casual sex, there was no point in seeing Case Baxter as anything other than a paycheck and a valuable advertisement for Keep N Clean.
Feeling unaccountably morose, she told herself she was just tired after a long day’s work. She gathered her things, let herself out and carefully locked the front door.
After the short drive back to town and a forty-five-minute stop at her office to check mail and phone messages that hadn’t been routed to her personal cell, she headed for home. She had a date tonight with a favorite TV show, some leftover spaghetti and her comfy sofa.
But the plan changed when she found her father camped out on her doorstep. It looked as if he had been sitting there for a while, because he had an empty beer bottle at either hip. His eyes were bloodshot. Though he stood when she walked up the path to the small duplex she called home, he was unsteady on his feet.
“You changed your locks,” he said, a look of bafflement on his florid face. Harold Winslow was short and round with salt-and-pepper hair and skin weathered by the Texas sun. Once upon a time he had been a successful businessman. But when his beloved wife died, his alcoholic tendencies had taken over.
Hugging him briefly, she sighed. “I’m a grown woman, Daddy. I like my privacy. You don’t seem to understand that.” She had tried her best not to fall into a codependent relationship with her only living parent. But that was easier said than done.
The trouble was, Mellie felt his pain. Ila Winslow had been the center of their lives. When cancer took her away from her husband and sixteen-year-old daughter, their world had caved in. Harold found solace in whiskey. Mellie had been forced to grow up far too quickly.
Harold followed her into the house. “Any chance you might fix dinner for your dear old dad?”
She counted to ten beneath her breath, keeping her back to him. “We can order a pizza. I’m beat. I was planning to eat leftovers.”
“Pizza works. You got any cash? I left my billfold at home.”
It was an old game they played. Harold could live comfortably off the rents from the properties he still owned. But money slipped through his fingers like water through a sieve. When he ended up broke again and again, he came knocking at Mellie’s door...sometimes figuratively, but more often than not, literally...like tonight.
Swallowing her disappointment at having her hopes for a peaceful evening shattered, she managed an even tone. “Go ahead and order what you want. I’m going to change clothes.”
By the time she returned to the living room, her father was sprawled in a recliner, the television remote in his hand. He gave her a smile, but behind it she thought she saw despair. His existence was aimless. No matter how hard Mellie tried, she couldn’t get him to understand that his life wasn’t over. She loved her dad, but once in a while, it would have been nice to lean on him instead of always having to be the grown-up.
Dinner arrived soon after. She paid for the two small, fragrant pizzas and tipped the young man, wondering if the fact that she and her father couldn’t even agree on toppings was proof that she would never convince him to see things her way.
They ate in silence, the television filling the void. Finally, she finished her meal and decided it was now or never...a conversation that was long overdue. But she would come at it indirectly.
“I started a new job today, Daddy. I’m going to be cleaning and organizing for Case Baxter.”
Harold raised an eyebrow. “The new Texas Cattleman’s Club president?”
“Yes. Having him as a client will be a coup, I think.”
“I’m proud of you, baby girl.”
For once, she thought he meant it. “Thank you.” She paused and said a prayer. “I’m doing well, Daddy. Keep N Clean is solvent and growing.”
He nodded. “Good for you.”
An awkward silence descended, but she forged ahead. “We need to talk about last week.”
Immediately, his face closed up. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Quit worrying. I don’t drink as much as you think I do.”
“Sheriff Battle found you passed out in the street.” She hesitated, dreading his reaction. “I’d like to pay for you to go to rehab before it’s too late.”
“I hadn’t eaten breakfast. My blood sugar was too low. I fainted, that’s all.”
“Daddy, please. I know you miss Mom. So do I. Every day. But at the rate you’re going, I’m likely to lose you, too.”
Harold lumbered to his feet and stood with what dignity he could. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Surely a man can enjoy a couple of beers without getting a lecture.”
It was more than beer. A lot more. And the alcohol abuse was aging him rapidly. “Just think about it,” she pleaded. “It won’t be so bad. I’ve read about some beautiful places right here in Texas. I want you to be healthy and strong so you can play with your grandchildren one day.”
Her father snorted. “You don’t even date. That cleaning company of yours won’t keep you warm at night. Maybe you’d better quit worrying about me and find yourself a man.”
It was exactly like Harold to go on the attack when she tried to talk to him about his drinking. “I’ve got plenty of time for that.”
For a split second the naked pain in her father’s heart was written on his face. “We all think we have plenty of time, Mellie. But love isn’t a permanent gift. Losing it hurts. I’m pretty sure that’s why you don’t let any man get too close. I’ll make you a deal, darlin’... When you get your life in order, I’ll let you muck around with mine.”
