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With a rueful shake of her head, she ripped back the comforter and quickly stripped off the sheets. Wadding them into her arms, she headed for the laundry room, but slowed in the hallway, her attention captured by the gallery of framed pictures hanging there. Though she’d looked at the photos before, she found her curiosity heightened after her earlier, heated conversation with her employer.
Pictures of Rachel and the twins dominated the wall, monitoring the children’s growth from birth to present day, but Annie found herself skimming over them in search of pictures of Jase. She smiled as she recognized a picture of him with Penny, taken when his sister was probably about Tara’s age. Jase stood apart from Penny, yet there was an unmistakable protectiveness in his posture that indicated he took his responsibilities as his sister’s guardian very seriously.
Though he was much younger in the picture, Annie noticed that Jase hadn’t changed much over the years. In fact, she was sure she recognized the grim scowl and the steely-eyed impatience as the same expression he’d graced her with at breakfast and again at noon.
With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to Penny. Plain, but by no means unattractive, in the photograph Penny projected an image of solemnity unnatural for one so young. Annie supposed it was due to the tragedies Penny had suffered so early in life, the responsibilities she’d been forced to assume.
Though she’d only known Jase’s sister a short span of time, Annie suspected she knew Penny better than her own brother did. She attributed that advantage to her fondness for studying people, noting their mannerisms and habits, the little quirks that spoke volumes about their personalities. Too, people tended to tell her things about themselves, guarded little secrets that they wouldn’t dream of sharing with another. She wasn’t sure why that was so, though she suspected it was simply because she was willing to listen. For whatever reason, throughout her life she had found herself serving as a sounding board and vault for the problems and dreams of countless others, just as she had for Penny in the short week they had spent together before Penny’s departure.
Penny Rawley was way past spreading her wings a little, Annie reaffirmed as she moved farther down the hallway. From what Penny had told her, the woman had dedicated herself and her life to Jase and his family. Especially so after the death of Jase’s wife.
Reaching a wedding portrait framed in gilt, Annie stopped in front of it, tilting her head slightly as she studied the couple pictured there. So young, she thought with a twinge of sadness as she focused on the bride smiling radiantly and lovingly up at her husband, a bouquet of white roses clutched beneath her chin. And what a scar her passing had left on Jase, she reflected with regret, noting the devotion with which he gazed down upon his wife and remembering the bitterness of his expression when he’d snapped his fingers, demonstrating the quickness of her passing. That he’d loved his wife was obvious in the gesture. That he still harbored resentment, maybe even anger over her loss was even more obvious.
Pensive, she moved on to the laundry room, stuffed the dirty linens into the washing machine, then headed outside with a basket loaded with those she’d already washed. The warmth of the sun and the sound of birds singing in the centuries-old oak tree at the corner of the backyard chased her concerns for Jase and his family from her mind and drew a cheerful smile. Humming an accompaniment to the birds’ warbled songs she drew a sheet from the basket, caught it by its corners and clipped it to the clothesline, then reached inside the basket for another.
“We have a clothes dryer.”
Annie jumped, then sagged weakly, clutching the damp sheet against her chest as she turned to frown at Jase. “You’ve got to quit doing that,” she scolded.
“Doing what?”
“Sneaking up on me like that.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Wasn’t sneaking. Was on my way to the house.” He gestured to the sheet she still held against her chest. “Thought I ought to let you know we have a clothes dryer and save you the trouble of hanging the sheets on the line.”
She huffed a breath as she turned. “I know there’s a clothes dryer,” she replied, thinking of the mountains of dirty laundry she’d washed since her arrival in his home. She plucked a clothespin from the line and clipped it over the sheet, securing it in place. “I just happen to prefer sun-dried linens.”
He lifted an indifferent shoulder. “It’s your back.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed and squatted down beside the basket to dig through the remaining linens for the matching pillowcases to hang. “And speaking of my back, would you mind if I strained it a little more by cleaning out the garden and planting a few vegetables?”
When he didn’t respond immediately, she glanced up and found that he’d turned and was staring at the garden plot, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set in a hard line. Seeing the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, she quickly rose. “If you’d rather I didn’t—”
He shook his head and walked away. “Do what you want with it,” he muttered.
She stared after him, wondering what it was about her request that he found so upsetting.
Still puzzling over Jase’s strange reaction to her request to plant a garden, Annie whacked at the weeds choking the small piece of ground. She’d cleared a space about three feet by three feet when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Sensing that she was being watched, she glanced up and saw Jase standing in the opening of the barn’s loft, shirtless, his hands braced high on the opening’s frame. Sweat gleamed on his muscled arms and chest and darkened the waist of his jeans.
Though his hat shadowed his face, she felt the intensity of his gaze, the unmistakable heat in it. As he continued to stare, she drew a hand to the hollow of her throat, suddenly feeling exposed, as if he’d somehow managed to strip her of her clothing and left her standing naked in the garden.
An awareness passed between them, something primitive and sexual that had Annie’s pulse pummeling her palm, her mouth going dry as dust. She wanted to look away…but found she couldn’t. She could only stare in slack-jawed fascination at the virile image he created standing high in the loft, one knee slightly bent, one hip cocked a little higher than the other. He looked so commanding, so utterly masculine, so bone-meltingly sexual. And when he dropped a hand to rub it lazily across the dark, damp hair on his chest, she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling weak, sure that she could feel the damp heat on her lips, taste on her tongue the salt from his skin.
Anxious for another look, she opened her eyes, but he was already turning away. Stifling the moan of disappointment that rose, the sense of loss, she slowly caught up the hoe and began to chop half-heartedly at the weeds again, her movements sluggish now, her strength drained by the attraction that churned low in her belly.
Her thoughts were so scattered, her senses so dulled, it took a moment for her to become aware of the rumble of the school bus. Straightening, she drew the hoe up, propped her hands on its handle and inhaled a deep, steadying breath, pushing back her lustful thoughts of Jase as she watched the bus near.
It stopped in front of the house and the door folded back. Rachel, always seated at the front of the bus, came tumbling down the steps, dragging her book bag behind her, and headed straight for the house.
“Hey, Rachel!” she called, lifting a hand in greeting. “Over here. How was school?”
A grin spreading from ear to ear, Rachel raced toward the garden, waving a paper above her head. “Annie! Look! I made a hundred on my spelling test!”
“Why, that’s wonderful, sweetheart!” Annie stepped from the garden and leaned the hoe against the low fence, then knelt and wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist, drawing her to her side. “And look,” she said pointing, “your teacher gave you a gold star, too.”
“That’s ’cause my penmanship was so good.”
“And it is,” Annie agreed, hugging the girl to her.
“What’s for dinner?”
Annie glanced up at the question and saw Tara headed her way, followed closely by Clay. She widened her smile to include the twins. “Dinner isn’t for a couple of hours, yet, but there are fresh vegetables in the refrigerator and some dip, if you’d like a snack.”
Tara rolled her eyes and did a neat U-turn, heading for the house. “Rabbit food,” she muttered under her breath.
Surprised by the teenager’s sour expression, Annie rose, staring after her.
“Ignore her,” Clay said. “She’s in one of her moods.”
“It certainly appears that way,” Annie replied, wondering if the mood was a carryover from the teenager’s brief but heated confrontation with her father that morning. “And how was your day?” she asked, turning to smile at Clay.
“Okay.”
“Kiss any girls?” she teased.
He ducked his head, blushing, and chipped the toe of a boot against the ground. “Nah.”
Annie laughed. “Well, there’s always tomorrow.”
He glanced up at her, then quickly away, his blush deepening, then shifted his gaze to the garden. “What are you doing out here?”
“Getting the soil ready to plant.” She glanced at the garden and sighed wearily, disappointed by the small amount of progress she’d made. “But it’s turning out to be a much bigger chore than I anticipated.”
“Does Dad know you’re working in here?”
“Well, yes,” Annie replied, puzzled by his question. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged and hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder. “No reason. It’s just that…well, nobody’s planted a garden since Mom died.”
“Oh,” she murmured, understanding now why Jase had seemed so upset when she’d asked his permission to plant a garden. “I didn’t know.”
Clay shrugged again. “No big deal. It’s just dirt.”
Annie stared at the weed-clogged clods she’d managed to overturn, suspecting that, though the garden might be nothing more than dirt to Clay, it represented a great deal more to the boy’s father.
Feeling the guilt nudging at her for the painful memories her request must have drawn for Jase, she shrugged it off and forced a smile as she turned to Clay. “Are you hungry?”
He reared back and patted his stomach, grinning. “Starving.”
Annie caught Rachel’s hand, then slung an arm over Clay’s shoulders, heading both children toward the house. “How about some rabbit food?” she teased.
“Just call me Thumper,” he replied, grinning.
“Clay!”
Clay spun, his grin fading when he saw his father standing in the barn’s doorway, scowling, his arms folded across his chest. “Yeah, Dad?” he called.
“You’ve got chores waiting.”
“But couldn’t I eat something first?”
When his father merely angled his head and arched a brow in warning, Clay heaved a sigh. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, then turned to Annie. “Sorry. Guess I’ll have to grab something later.”
Offering him a sympathetic smile, Annie slipped the backpack from his shoulder and lifted it to her own. “I’ll save some dip for you,” she promised.
As she watched Clay trudge toward the barn, she glanced Jase’s way and saw that he waited in the doorway still wearing the now-familiar scowl…and wondered how much of the man’s gruffness was direct fallout from the loss of his wife.
“Could I crank up the rototiller and plow up the garden for Annie?”
Hunkered down beside the engine he was working on, Jase glanced up at Clay’s question, then frowned and turned his attention back to the spark plug he was adjusting. “You’ve got chores to do.”
“But afterwards?” Clay persisted. “It wouldn’t take me long and it’ll take her forever to clean out all those weeds using just a hoe.”
“There’s more important work that needs to be done than tilling a garden.”
“Like what?”
At the frustration he heard in his son’s voice, Jase dropped the wrench to his knee and glanced up, his frown deepening. “Like the fence that needs mending down in the bottom. The new calves I hauled in last night that need feeding and watering. The well house that needs painting.”
Ducking his head, Clay scuffed the toe of his boot at the loose hay in the alleyway. “There’s always work that needs doing around here,” he mumbled.
Jase pushed his hands against his knees and rose. “And there always will be,” he said, tossing the wrench to the workbench, “so long as you complain about your chores instead of just doing them.”
“I’m not complaining,” Clay argued. “I just wanted to help Annie out.”
“If the new nanny wants a garden, then she’ll have to do the work herself.”
“You won’t let me help her because you don’t like her.”
Jase dug through the tools, reluctant to admit there might be some truth in his son’s accusation. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. But we like her. She’s nice. And she’s really funny, too. She’s always saying stuff or doing stuff that makes us laugh.”
Yeah, Jase thought, keeping his back to his son. He’d noticed those qualities in her, too. As well as a few others. “Whether she’s nice or not, isn’t the point. Getting your chores done is.”
Clay’s voice took on a pleading tone. “Don’t run her off, Dad. Please? We like her.”
Jase spun to look at his son. “Run her off? Where’d you get a crazy notion like that?”
Clay lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. But if you’re mean to her, she won’t want to stay around here long.”
Which might be best for them all, Jase affirmed silently, then narrowed a suspicious eye at his son. “You wouldn’t have a crush on the new nanny, would you?”
Heat flamed on Clay’s cheeks. “Heck no! She’s way too old for me.”
Jase turned back to the workbench. “You wouldn’t be the first male to fall head over bootheels for an older woman. She’s young and fairly attractive.”
“Fairly attractive?” Clay echoed. “Dad, she’s a hottie!”
Jase angled his head to look at his son, his brow furrowing. “Hottie?”
“Well, yeah,” Clay said, his cheeks turning a brighter red. “A looker. You know…a babe.”
Shocked to discover that his son was aware of the finer points of the opposite sex, Jase picked up a wrench, and began to clean it. “You shouldn’t be noticing things like that,” he said gruffly.
Chase snorted a laugh. “Shoot. I’d have be to blind not to notice.”
Irritated by his son’s obvious attraction to the nanny, but unsure why, Jase gave his chin a jerk toward the door. “Best get after those chores.”
Clay stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled dejectedly.
Jase angled his head to watch his son pull the feed bucket from its nail on the wall and noticed for the first time the slight swell of muscles on the boy’s arms, the length of his stride as he headed for the barn door.
Frowning, he stared after him, wondering what had happened to the pint-size kid with the gangly legs and the too-long arms. The one who had always claimed girls were stupid.
The one who had once looked up at his daddy with hero worship in his eyes.
Jase had never considered his house small. Fact was, his home was a spacious two-story built by his parents prior to his own birth, and could adequately accommodate a family of ten or more without putting a hardship on anyone in the house.
But ever since the new nanny’s arrival, his house seemed to have shrunk to the size of a cracker box, as had the rest of his ranch. He couldn’t take a step without running into her. Literally.
He couldn’t count the number of times he’d bumped into her in the house or when stepping out of the barn, which invariably led to physical contact of some description. A hand on her arm to steady her, or one of her hands braced against his chest to prevent him from mowing her down on those occasions when he’d round a corner unaware of her presence.
And those brief, physical contacts were beginning to get on his nerves.
He’d known he wasn’t going to like having a stranger in his house. He’d known, too, that having one who was so young and who was…well…such a hottie as his son had described her, might create a problem or two. But he hadn’t been prepared for the amount of time he would waste thinking about her instead of working, wondering where she was, what she was doing, what she was wearing.
As far as he’d been able to determine, her wardrobe consisted of cutoff jeans, tank tops and other equally revealing articles of clothing. If that wasn’t distracting enough, he’d discovered she had a habit of humming while she worked that never failed to draw his gaze…and usually to a part of her anatomy that he had no business looking at.
And tonight was no exception.
With the kids already in bed for the night, he and Annie had the downstairs to themselves. And, though he kept his face hidden behind the newspaper he was reading, he was painfully aware of her exact location, which was, at the moment, less than five feet from his recliner and the tips of his boots. A laundry basket at her side, she sat on the floor folding towels…and humming an irritatingly cheerful little tune.
She glanced up, caught him staring and cocked her head, a questioning smile curving her lips. He quickly ducked his head behind the paper again and flipped the page, pretending to be engrossed in the day’s news.
After a moment, he worked up the courage to peek over the top of the newspaper again and caught her just as she rocked up on one hip to stretch to place a folded towel onto the growing stack at her side. At the movement, the hem of her shorts crawled higher on her leg, revealing the thin, white elastic band of her panties and a peek of the lighter-toned skin on her rump that the sun hadn’t seen. A low moan rose in his throat, as he stared, all but strangled by the sight.
“Did you say something?”
