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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?”
His dark eyes focused on her and the image of her mentor vanished. Arch had been an attractive man, but he hadn’t oozed sensuality the way Patrick did. Patrick was the kind of man who made a woman stand up straighter and hold her shoulders back.
“Sure. Need anything else?” Frown lines scored his forehead, as if something were bothering him.
“I’d like to go over the registration packets.”
“They’re in the basket, but I’ve already double-checked them. Everything’s in ’em.” He reached into the drawer and pulled out a key ring with at least three dozen keys on it. “The keys are marked with the cabin numbers.”
If one of those went to the storage building, she wouldn’t have to pick the lock tonight. Her fingertips brushed his palm when she took the keys. A tingle traveled all the way up her arm. Alarmed, she snatched her hand back. “Thank you.”
“You can meet the crew after lunch.” He drummed his fingers on the desk.
“Fine. I’ll go check the cabins.” She’d look over the packets later. The office was too small for both of them to work in without tripping over each other, and his blatant masculinity was…overpowering. She turned to leave.
“Leanna, how old was Arch Golden?” His question stopped her at the door.
She turned and could have sworn his eyes were focused on her bottom before he blinked and met her gaze. A flush spread from her middle through her limbs. “Fifty-nine. Why?”
“He was too old for you.”
Her shoulders sagged. Patrick wasn’t the first to jump to the wrong conclusion about her relationship with Arch. “Arch wasn’t my lover.”
He sat back in the chair, lacing his fingers over his flat belly and stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Then what was he?”
“A friend.” A mentor, a father figure, a safe harbor. He’d given her a home when she’d felt unsafe in her own.
“Right.” There was that sarcasm again. “You lived with him almost six years.”
Seven if you counted the year he and her mother had been a couple, but that wasn’t common knowledge. Arch had done his best to shield her from the press. “How do you know that?”
Muttering under his breath, he swiveled back to the desk.
“You know, Patrick, every relationship between a man and a woman doesn’t have to be sexual.”
His scowl bordered on ferocious. “A relationship between a man and a child sure as hell shouldn’t be—unless he’s a pervert.”
“Your—Arch was not a pervert. He was a kind and generous and…” But Patrick wasn’t listening. He’d focused his attention on the papers in front of him. Her name nearly leaped off the page. She moved closer. “What are you reading?”
“The report on you.”
“What?” She halted midstep.
“Brooke orders background checks on every employee—including you. Although yours is sketchy because it was done on short notice.”
Anger rippled through her like waves on a pond. He had some nerve going through her confidential files. She reached for it, but he pulled it out of reach. “That’s private information. You have no right—”
“I have every right to know what kind of employee I’m responsible for supervising.”
Maybe he did, but she didn’t want her dirty laundry aired. She snatched at the report again. He put a hand out to hold her back. His fingers splayed over her waist, distracting her from her goal. Alarmed by the unexpected contact and even more by the heat pooling beneath his fingers, she jumped back.
He fisted his hand in his lap. “You said you had no family. Does your sister know where you are?”
She winced at the hurt his words inflicted and sank back on her heels. One of these days she’d get used to Tonya’s lies. “I don’t have a sister.”
He tapped the page on the desk in front of him as if seeing it in print made it a fact.
She huffed out an exasperated breath. “You need a better investigator. The woman who claims to be my sister is actually my mother. She lies about her age to get parts.”
“She’s an actress?” He obviously wasn’t a Hollywood fan.
“Not one you’ve ever heard of. And in case your lousy snoop missed it, she was Arch’s lover, not me.” She turned to leave once again.
“Is Golden your father?”
Leanna bit her tongue to keep from yelling, No, he’s yours. Patrick had no idea how lucky he was to have not one, but two men who wanted to claim him. If that wasn’t enough, according to Carolyn’s letters, he’d been his mother’s favorite son as well.
She had no one except a mother who’d only become interested in her when a millionaire had taken her under his wing. Her own father had been horrified when she’d looked him up and introduced herself. He’d threatened to call the police if she didn’t leave him alone.
“Arch didn’t come into our lives until I was twelve. My mother didn’t tell me who my father was until I turned eighteen, and she only told me then because I threatened to hire one of those agencies to find him.” She hated revealing her dirty secret, but he’d find out sooner or later, and she hoped he wouldn’t hold her mongrel background against her.
“We lived with Arch for about a year and then moved on. I returned later—without my mother.”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hell, I’m sorry.”
“Save your pity. You can’t miss what you never had.” But she did. More than anything, she wanted to be part of a strong family unit. For a while Arch had been that for her. But now he was gone, and with each hour that passed, it looked less and less like Patrick would fill his father’s shoes.
Three
The way the dude ranch crew tumbled into the kitchen reminded Leanna of a litter of eager puppies.
The staff came in all shapes and sizes, more males than females, but their camaraderie made it clear that they were all glad to be here.
A man about Patrick’s age straddled a chair and called out, “Wanna know what the bet’s up to now, Romeo? One month. My fifty bucks says you can’t make it.”
Leanna glanced at Patrick, hoping he’d enlighten her, but he flushed and avoided her gaze. “You’re full of it, Toby.”
“Won’t be me full of rising sap.”
“My money says he won’t make it past Saturday night,” another man called out.
One of the women shushed them. “Leave him alone.”
Curiosity and her own competitive nature got the better of Leanna. “What’s the bet?”
“We’re betting—”
Patrick interrupted Toby. “Folks, this is Leanna. She’s filling in for Brooke. Introduce yourselves.”
But Toby wasn’t dissuaded. He continued, “I’m Toby, trail boss, and I’m betting Patrick can’t stay away from Red Dog’s Bar or women until Caleb gets back.”
Leanna chewed the inside of her cheek. Womanizing and drinking. That didn’t sound good. Was Patrick a loser like her mother’s exes? She hoped not.
The group doled out names and job descriptions until only one man, about her age, was left. He ambled toward her and didn’t stop until he’d crowded her against the counter. “Sweet thing, I’d love to show you the local sights.”
Leanna’s heart raced and her muscles constricted. The last man who’d called her “sweet thing” had tried to rape her. The counter pressed into her spine, reminding her too much of the slick shower stall. Cold sweat beaded her lip, but she stood her ground. “No, thanks. I bought a map.”
“A map can’t show you half what—”
“I prefer fact to fiction, and I suspect you’re full of it.”
She heard snickers from the crew.
“Back off, Warren.” Patrick clamped a hand on the man’s shoulder and yanked him out of her space. “She said no.”
Patrick turned, putting his broad shoulders between her and the rest of the crew. Leanna fought the nausea stirring her stomach and tried to steady her nerves as Patrick gave orders for the day.
The encounter had surprised her. Flirtatious creeps had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. Usually she could spot them a mile off and defend herself from them, but she’d let down her guard in the crowded kitchen.
The crew emptied out of the kitchen, and Patrick turned to face her. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She tried to smile, but her lips quivered.
“Right. That’s why you look like you’re gonna toss your cookies on my boots.”
The concern in his eyes wrapped around her like a warm blanket. No one besides Arch had ever stood up for her before. “Your imagination is working overtime.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me, kid?”
If only he knew. “Stop calling me kid.”
“I’ll stop when you tell me what you’re really doing here.” He continued to study her until she wanted to squirm. She wouldn’t tell him the truth until he knew her well enough to trust her when she told him how much Arch had cared about him.
She held his gaze, trying to act as if she hadn’t nearly had a panic attack. The concern on Patrick’s face slowly changed. His features tightened. His gaze heated and dropped to her mouth.
Her nerves clamored again, but panic wasn’t the cause. An unknown emotion spread through her, shortening her breath and making her skin prickle.
Patrick shook his head and took a step back. He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, “Ring the brass bell on the back porch if you need me.”
The sun was a dim light on the horizon when Patrick parked his truck beside the barn. The sound of running water had him swearing and jogging toward the washing stall, but it wasn’t a busted pipe that made his knees lock up and his jaw drop.
Leanna was naked.
She had her back to him as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair with the nozzle she held in one hand. Water and bubbles slid from her shoulders to the nip of her waist, faithfully following her curves the way a skilled lover would with his hands. Suds washed over the bow of her hips, her taut pale behind, and down long, sleek legs to puddle around her shower sandals before swirling down the drain.
His throat knotted up and his heart hammered. His blood headed south. He was rock-hard in an instant.
He ought to let her know he was here. Better yet, he should get outta here. His feet wouldn’t move, but his eyes sure did, savoring the feast of a beautiful, wet woman.
Get a grip, Lander. You’ve seen naked ladies before. Dozens of them. But why in the hell was this one showering in the barn? He couldn’t ask. His mouth was as dry as dirt.
Slowly she rotated, but her eyes remained closed. Full, pale breasts with tightly puckered dusky tips. A tiny waist. Rounded hips. A tangle of dark curls framed by a narrow triangle of lighter skin.
Leanna was built better than any wet dream he’d ever had. Air gushed from his lungs.
Her lids flew open. The shock in her eyes gave way to fear—the same fear he’d seen in her eyes yesterday when Warren had hit on her. She reached for the knob behind her and turned off the hot water, and then aimed the hose right at his crotch. “Cool off, cowboy.”
A blast of frigid water jerked him out of his trance. She redirected the spray to his face, knocking off his hat and soaking him from head to toe. “Hey!”
Bounding forward, he grabbed the hose. Leanna wrestled him for it. His knuckles brushed her silky belly. Her breast hit his biceps like an electric cattle prod.
She gasped and jerked back, tripping over the hose coiled at her feet. Her arms flailed.
He tried to catch her and keep her from falling on the concrete, but his hands slipped on the slick, wet skin of her back. Before he knew it he had a handful of her soft bottom, and her pebbled nipples branded a hole through his wet shirt.
Every cell in his body rose for “Reveille.”
“Cut it out.” He said it to himself as much as to her. She stopped struggling, but remained rigid in his arms. He righted her, released her and turned off the water, even though he seriously needed to aim the icy flow down the front of his Wranglers.
Covering her breasts and the curls between her legs with her hands, she backed as far away from him as she could in the confines of the wash stall.
Although he would have preferred to make another leisurely inspection of her figure, the wariness in her eyes stopped him cold. He snatched the towel hanging from the hook on the wall beside him and tossed it to her.
She caught it and swiftly wound it around herself, but she didn’t take her gaze off him—not even long enough to blink.
He had to say something. While he’d never had trouble talking to a naked woman before, he didn’t have a clue what to say now. Might as well start with the obvious. “Why are you showering in the barn at four-thirty in the morning?”
“Y-you’re early.”
“Last I heard, the Pink Palace had running water.”
“I’m…I’m not st-staying at the rooming house.”
“Why?”
Her brows dipped and she chewed her bottom lip. “I can’t afford it.”
He shoved the wet hair off his forehead and swiped the water from his face. “Why in the hell didn’t you say so?”
She tipped up her chin and squared her shoulders, but her white-knuckled grip on the towel didn’t loosen. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t come early.”
Fine if he hadn’t… He rubbed the back of his neck. How did this get to be his fault? “Where did you sleep last night?”
She pressed her lips together and remained mute.
“Tell me or you’re fired.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again.
Water trickled off his wet clothes, filling his favorite boots. He was beginning to suspect he’d be looking for a new hostess when she said, “In one of the storage buildings.”
“One of the—” He snapped his jaw shut on the stampede of curses battling to get out.
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