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“You’re early. Trying to score points with the boss?”
She smiled up at him. “Would it work?”
He couldn’t help but grin back. “Nope. Beating me to work makes me look bad.”
She scratched the dog behind his ragged, partially chewed-off ear and cupped the mutt’s face. “Rico won’t tell. Will you, boy?”
You had to like a gal who’d befriend a butt-ugly dog. He dug in his pocket for his key and unlocked the door.
“Brooke said you’d give me keys and introduce me to everyone.”
Evidently, Brooke and Caleb had made him social director before they’d left last night. Brooke wasn’t handling mornings well in the first trimester of her pregnancy and preferred not to travel early in the morning.
“Should be a set of spares inside.”
Leanna unfolded in increments as if her muscles were stiff. He thought it a little odd considering her age—or lack of age. “You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put up wet.”
As soon as the words came out of his mouth an image formed in his mind—an image that had nothing to do with mistreating a horse. Down boy. He shoved open the door and motioned her to go ahead.
“Uh…no, just a strange bed. Do you mind if I make coffee?”
He followed her into the kitchen, wondering if the lack of caffeine was causing his mind to wander in the wrong direction. “Go ahead.”
She searched through the cabinets looking for the fixings. Each time she reached up, the strip of skin between the waistband of her baggy pants and the hem of her loose butter-yellow T-shirt widened.
His hormones obviously realized he was fixin’ to hang’em out for a long dry spell and were already rebelling.
With enormous effort he yanked his gaze away and reached past her for the coffee. His chest brushed her shoulder. Her hip nudged his. By the way his body reacted, she might as well have jumped on the kitchen table and started a bump-and-grind strip show.
Damn, he needed coffee. And a cold shower. He shoved the can into her hands and hustled across the room before he gave in to the urge to see if her skin felt as warm and smooth as it looked.
“Thanks.” Her voice sounded a little husky.
He squinted at her. Was she having as hard a time catching her breath as he was? Get your head outta the gutter and back on business, Lander. “You and Brooke handled all the paperwork yesterday?”
She scooped coffee grounds into the filter and smiled at him. “Yes, and she explained the dude ranch schedule. Guests arrive on Saturday and stay through Wednesday afternoon. The staff has Thursday and half of Friday off.”
“Why’re you early?”
Her cheeks looked flushed, but it was probably just a reflection of the sunrise coming through the window. “I need to familiarize myself with where everything is before we get caught up in the guests’ arrival.” She stretched to put up the coffee.
He caught another glimpse of skin and inhaled, but it wasn’t coffee he smelled—not unless Brooke had switched to a prissy vanilla-scented brew. Suddenly it struck him that he and Leanna were the only ones in the house. Clearing his throat, he wiped a hand across his face. The bristles reminded him that in the rush to avoid another argument with his father he’d forgotten to shave.
“She gave you the uniform?”
“Yes, but she said I didn’t have to wear it until tomorrow and then only for the first two days to help the guests identify me as an employee. Can you tell me where Rico’s food is kept?”
“Laundry room.”
She called to the dog and walked out of the room. Patrick caught himself tracking her—or rather the hip-rolling motion of her tight, round hind quarters, and shook his head. Label the gal off-limits, and danged if he didn’t develop a one-track mind.
Quit thinking about her and get back to work, dammit. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a truckload to do. He snatched up the computer printout Caleb had left him and scanned the information about the incoming dudes. Most were families with kids, but there were a few couples and singles. He’d learned the hard way to keep his eye on the singles.
He heard the splash of coffee into a mug and turned. Leanna had returned so quietly he hadn’t heard her. She lifted the pot in his direction and arched a brow. He nodded and she filled his cup.
Leaning against the counter, she asked, “Brooke said you had two brothers besides Caleb. Are you close?”
He jerked his gaze away from the freckles splashed across her nose and discovered a toe ring on her sandaled foot. Different. Sexy. Heat curled in his belly. Aw, hell, did he have to discover a foot fetish now? “As close as most, I guess.”
“Do you help Caleb and Brooke with the dude ranch often?” She pursed her lips and blew on her steaming coffee, and he almost forgot her question. She’d painted her pouty mouth today. Red. Ripe. Ready.
Wrong. Man, he needed to go back home and start this day over. He rubbed the back of his neck. She’d asked him a question. What was it? “Brooke’s only owned the place a few months, but Caleb and I used to help the previous owner regularly.”
“You live next door with your father?”
“Yeah.”
“How does he feel about you working here?”
Where was the line of questions leading, and why did he feel as if he were being interviewed? “Probably glad to have me out of his hair.”
“You don’t get along?”
It could take him all day to answer that one. “Not as good as we could. Why?”
He thought she smiled into her coffee mug. “Just curious.”
“Right. If we’re playing twenty questions then why’re you here?”
She stilled and slowly lifted her gaze to his. “I needed a job.”
“In Texas?” He sipped his coffee and discovered Leanna made a danged good brew. It wasn’t strong enough to put hair on a man’s chest, but it came close. Had to like that.
She gnawed her lip and lifted her chin. “I’ve been fascinated with Texas since I read about it as a teenager, and this job seemed like the perfect opportunity to fulfill a dream. Brooke interviewed me over the phone and hired me.”
“So you decided to pack everything you own in the back of your car and satisfy your curiosity?”
“Yes.”
He couldn’t imagine loading up his truck and leaving his family behind. This patch of land in McMullen County, Texas, was his home. Two of his brothers had left home, but they’d had good reasons. Brand had traveled the rodeo circuit for ten years because they’d needed his winnings to hold on to the ranch. Cort had gone all the way to North Carolina for college because he’d had a partial scholarship at Duke.
Why had Leanna left home? Uprooting herself for a temporary job didn’t make sense. “Are you on the run?”
Her face paled, and her eyes widened. “From what?”
“Or whom.”
“I’m not running from anything or anyone.” She sounded pretty defensive for somebody who had nothing to hide.
“What did your family say when you took off?”
She glanced away. “I don’t have any family who’ll worry about me.”
He recognized a dodge when he saw one, and something in her tone didn’t sound right. “Show me your ID.”
“What?” She set her mug down on the counter with a thump.
“You look like a teenager. Your car’s packed with God-knows-what. You allegedly leave a job in a movie star’s mansion to hide out on a dude ranch halfway across the country. It doesn’t add up. I figure either you’re lying about your age or you’re on the run. For all I know you could have robbed the dead guy and skedaddled across the state line.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she frowned. “You’re incredibly suspicious.”
He pulled his gaze away from the taut fabric stretched over her breasts. “Did you steal his silver?”
She gaped at him. “No.”
“Nothing crammed in your car belonged to Arch Golden?”
Guilty pink climbed her cheeks. “I didn’t sneak anything out of Arch’s house.”
Yep. Evasive. “Where’s the ID?”
“I don’t have it with me.” He made a face and she continued, “I showed all the proper documentation to Brooke yesterday. I didn’t bring my purse today.”
Right. He’d never known a woman who went anywhere without the arsenal she carried in her purse. “Where is it?”
Again she averted her gaze. “I…I left it under…my bed.”
Sure she had. “Lemme see your car’s registration.”
“My car is at Pete’s.”
She had an answer for everything, but the last one he could and would check out with a phone call. Brooke had left him in charge, and danged if he’d let anything go wrong. His days of letting folks down were over. “How’d he die?”
She blinked and shook her head as if he’d surprised her. “Who? Arch?”
He nodded.
“Lung cancer. Do you smoke?”
What difference did it make if he did? “Never have. Expensive habit. You?”
“No.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt.
“Do you have any secrets I need to know about, kid?”
Her deer-in-the-headlights expression sent alarm bells clanging in his mind. “Secrets?”
His gut twisted into one big knot of apprehension. Aw hell, Brooke, what have you dumped on me? He didn’t have time to police the Double C’s hostess. “Vices. Bad habits.”
“As many as your average citizen, I guess.”
An average citizen from a Hollywood movie star’s neighborhood was a whole different species from the folks he was used to dealing with. He couldn’t head off a problem if he’d never heard of it. “Like what?”
She rubbed her forehead with one long, slender finger. Her hand was steady and her skin and eyes were clear. He could probably rule out substance abuse.
“I have a weakness for jelly beans.”
He snorted in disbelief. “Now that’s scary. What else?”
She angled her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I like lobster with drawn butter and two-hour bubble baths.”
And just like that, his body took that wrong-way detour again. A picture of Leanna in a tub with her long hair piled on top of her head and bubbles teasing the tops of her breasts immediately formed in his mind. He chugged several sips of coffee to distract himself from that irrational, illogical, impossible fantasy and scalded his tongue.
What in the hell was wrong with him that he’d be fantasizing about a gal still wet behind the ears? Wasn’t thirty-six too young for a midlife crisis?
She arched a brow. “You?”
“Ask anybody. I have more vices than any man ought to.”
She frowned and shoved away from the counter. “If I want to figure out where everything is and go over the menus and cabin assignments before the others arrive I should get started.”
She hightailed it out of the room, leaving him wondering what he’d said to make her run away.
Leanna closed a guest room door, moved on to check the towels, sheets and soaps in the next one. She’d give anything to crawl into one of those beds and sleep for a couple of hours.
Darkness had fallen by the time Pete had dropped her off at the dude ranch entrance last night, and after lugging her suitcases up the mile-long driveway, she’d been too tired to poke around in the inky shadows looking for a place to sleep. Since Brooke had mentioned that the ranch would be empty for the night, she’d stashed her luggage under the porch and crashed on a lounge chair. Luckily she’d packed bug repellant because the mosquitoes here were huge, and they liked California cuisine—namely her.
At first light she’d found the barn and made use of the big concrete stall used for washing the horses to shower and change clothes. With a little snooping, she’d found an out-of-the-way building which looked to be unused except for furniture storage. After picking the lock, she’d stashed her bags and returned to the main house, only to drift off to sleep while waiting for Patrick to arrive.
She yawned and arched her stiff back. Living with Arch had spoiled her. She used to be able to sleep anywhere. Tonight she looked forward to stretching out on the long sofa in the storage building, without the bugs. Maybe Rico would keep her company. She’d felt safe with the tough-looking dog beside her.
As she moved from room to room, her mind drifted back to this morning’s conversation with Patrick. He’d said he and his father didn’t get along. That was good—at least as far as the inheritance went. He might be reluctant to announce his true paternity if he and the man who’d raised him were close.
She wondered if Mr. Lander knew Patrick wasn’t his son. Carolyn’s letters suggested he didn’t. If he didn’t, her surprise wouldn’t be a pleasant one.
After Arch made it in Hollywood, he’d written to Carolyn wanting to claim his son. She’d promised to write again when she’d broken the news to Patrick about his true paternity and asked her husband for a divorce. The letter never came, because Carolyn had died.
Stopping in front of the mirror, she smoothed her hair and reapplied her tinted lip balm. Her mother constantly urged her to “do something with herself,” fearing she’d never catch a man if she continued her plain-Jane ways. Tonya, who’d had more lovers than Tootsie had rolls, couldn’t understand that not every woman wanted to depend on a man to keep food on the table and a roof over her head.
The last thing Leanna wanted to do was give someone the power to break her heart. She’d nursed her mother’s broken hearts for most of her life and wasn’t eager to drag herself through that morass.
She closed the door on the last room and made her way down the wide staircase to the small office. It’d be wise to go over the registration packets for each of their guests so she would know whom she’d be expected to entertain and what kinds of interests the guests might have.
As soon as she entered Brooke and Caleb’s private quarters, the smell of fresh paint and the rumble of voices told her the decorators had arrived. She jerked to a halt inside the office.
Patrick sat at the desk with his head bent over a stack of papers. In profile, he looked so much like Arch that her heart ached and her throat clogged with loss. Soon, after they got to know each other a little better, she’d tell him about Arch. The truth would be easier coming from a friend than a stranger.
“Patrick, could I get the keys to the cabins?”
