A Texas Chance (6 page)

“If not, I’m taking a skillet to your thick head.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Beat it.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Seriously, trust me.”

“This better not be a mistake.” But reluctantly she complied.

Cade watched her leave, then turned to attempt to melt the ice queen.

P
LEASE
. N
OT
NOW
. N
OT
HIM
.
Sophie rounded the corner too fast, and the loaded wheelbarrow bobbled again. She’d been working on her argument to Jenna about why she’d changed her mind about buying Cade’s photographs, but she needed more time. She could not work with this man, even if he didn’t hold her in contempt as one of Jenna’s unfortunates.

She was no one to pity. So maybe she’d gotten her hopes up a little about the stunning images of his she’d seen and the extra cachet having them in her rooms would have given her, but no way was it worth it now. She should have known. It had been too good to be true. Nothing in life ever came without working for it.

She yanked another handful of vines and tossed them on the holding pile for her compost. She wanted to make this place as self-sustaining as possible, and with all the pruning and weeding she was doing, she’d have materials galore to compost. The compost would then fertilize the flower beds and shrubs. She even had her eye on an area near the carriage house that she could turn into an herb garden. She’d make old-fashioned tussie-mussies and potpourri to perfume the quarters....

“I’ve got this,” a deep voice said from behind her. Cade elbowed her out of the way and finished emptying the wheelbarrow.

She shoved right in and used her hip to bump him aside and wrest back the handles. “I can do it myself, and I thought I told you to go away.”

“You need help. Jenna says—”

She whirled on him. “Jenna says what? That I’m in trouble? That I’m pathetic? Did you two laugh over me? Did you tell her you wouldn’t even consider letting her empty your pockets for her
charity case?
”

“Don’t drag my sister into this.”

She shoved him in the chest. “Get off my property.”

“Slow down, Queenie.”

“Don’t call me that!”

But his attention had gone to her arm. He grabbed it. “You’re hurt. And there’s
dirt
in this cut. What do you think you’re doing?”

Next thing she knew, he was towing her across the lawn.

In the side yard, she heard workers arriving. “Let go of me or I’ll…”

Strong fingers maintained their grip, and soon she found herself in the kitchen. He turned on the water in the sink then dragged her forearm under it. “Wash that out. I’ll be back.” He halted. “Where’s your first-aid kit?”

“I’m not telling. You can’t make me.”
Wow,
she thought, falling silent.
How junior high is that
?

He threw up his hands. “You know, I don’t like people much…”

“No kidding.”

His eyes narrowed. “But I’m usually slow to anger.” He approached her again. “You get all snotty and frigid with me, though, and it just pushes my buttons.”

“Frigid?
Snotty?
” She wanted to hit him.

Then he smiled.
Smiled
. All the way into those thick-lashed, dark blue eyes. Up close in daylight, he was even more gorgeous than he’d been last night. Which completely infuriated her. “What are you grinning at?”

“Steamed looks better on you than frigid, Queenie.”

She refused to react to that name again. “I have work to do.” She pushed away from the sink.

He caught her arm. “Look, I can tell you’re swamped. Do you really have time to be arguing with me over what you know is sensible?”

He was right. And she was too tired to fight. “The kit is over there.” She nodded toward the cabinet to the right of the sink.

He followed her directions then proceeded to dry the wound and put antibiotic ointment on it. He covered it with a waterproof gauze pad and tape, sealing the ends to keep dirt out. “You need a long-sleeved shirt. Your skin will burn.”

“It’s too hot. Sunblock works just as well.”

“Are you always so argumentative?”

“I’m easy to get along with. The problem is you.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have to talk much in my line of work.”

“You could use some practice.”

“So my family tells me.” That smile again, no less killer hot. “How’s our dog?”

Her gaze flew to his. “
My
dog.”

“I think we should call him Rusty. Or Skeeter.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please.”

“You got a better idea?”

“He’s my dog. His name is an important decision. I’m still thinking.”

“We’ll see.” At last he stepped away, and she could breathe. “So…you going to show me around?”

She stared. “Why?”

“So I can figure out what kind of shots you could use.”

She stiffened. “I don’t want anything from you.”

One tawny eyebrow cocked. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” she said, and tried not to mourn the loss. “I am no one’s charity case. Your pockets will stay nice and full.” She gave him her back. “Besides, I don’t have time for a tour. I hear my guys coming in, and I have a lot of work to do. Today’s not a good day. You should go.”

With one hand on her jumpy stomach and the other in a fist, she rapidly made her way out of the room.

It was a full hour before she realized that he hadn’t left. Instead he’d somehow acquired a pair of work gloves and was busy cleaning out underbrush.

With his shirt off.

Revealing acres of golden skin.

And all kinds of muscles.

Sophie closed her eyes for a second and prayed for patience. Also for convenient blindness. Dear heaven, was there no justice?

She snapped off her lurid thoughts at the stem, then fisted her hands and stalked in Cade’s direction.

CHAPTER FIVE

“W
HAT
EXACTLY
DO
YOU
think you’re doing?”

Cade was hot, tired and more than a little worried he couldn’t push his body much longer without embarrassing himself, but for the first time in months he felt content and
useful.
But that didn’t mean Queenie was going to order him around. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He removed his cap and the T-shirt he’d wrapped over his head and left to trail down his back as he’d learned to do years before on his first desert sojourn. “This place must have been a real dump when you first saw it.” He glanced past her to the house. “She’s coming back to life, though,” he murmured. “Wonder who built her?”

Sophie’s gaze followed his. “A lumberyard owner. The woodwork inside and out is amazing. Not that you could see it at first—there were vines obscuring the entire front porch and growing up to the second story.”

“But you have the eye, don’t you?”

She looked at him. “The eye?”

The one I used to have,
he thought. He shrugged. “I always knew the shot that would tell the story.” In his mind, he could still picture the images that had made his career, even if he could no longer grasp the feeling that used to sweep over him as he peered through the viewfinder. “Rarely was it the dominant feature of a given landscape or the moments when everyone else had shutters clicking at a lion standing majestically. Those were the expected shots, the clichés. Those were never the ones I wanted to take. You’ve done the same thing here, taking a property that others would have believed ready for the bulldozer and making it into something magnificent.”

“I appreciate you saying that. Clearly your gift for seeing beyond the expected isn’t restricted to exotic locations and wild animals.”

“I don’t know about that....”

“That picture,” she said, “of the gazelle stumbling…do you remember it?”

He gazed down at her. “I remember all of them.”

“The writers who do the text for your photos must be in heaven when they’re assigned to your work. You always give them something fresh to write about, something powerful. Unforgettable.” Her green eyes were warm with admiration.

He had to look away. He might not ever give them a story again, and it was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out that he’d lost that inner knowing. “The writers would say that my photos were the accompaniment to their stories.”

“They’d be wrong. I don’t see their work hanging in galleries or museums.”

He grinned past the ache in his chest. She made that ache ease a little, at least as long as he was willing to live in the past. The coward’s way.

Abruptly he wasn’t eager to talk about photography anymore. “So after I get this cleared, what’s next?”

She frowned. “I told you I didn’t need your help. I have a landscaper coming soon.”

“Then why are you doing his work?”

“I had to trim the budget, so I offered to do some of his prep work. If Jenna insisted that you help—”

“Jenna doesn’t know I’m still here. She did tell me, though, that if I made you unhappy, I could expect a skillet upside the head when she got home.”

They shared a moment of amusement.

“She doesn’t mean it,” Sophie said.

“Bet me. That girl can be meaner than a snake.”

Sophie laughed, and the happy sound stopped him in his tracks.

“Call any of my brothers if you doubt my word.” He shrugged. “Though to be fair, we usually deserve it.” He watched the smile as it lingered on that beautiful mouth of hers. He didn’t like that she tugged at him, that he was powerfully tempted to grab a taste of her.

Besides, they were actually getting along for a few minutes, and yielding to that particular impulse would wreck that. “I called about our dog,” he said.

“
My
dog.” Her eyes snapped.

“We’ll see. Anyway, the surgery was over, and he came through fine. Still out for the count, though. Wanna go visit him later?”

The line between her brows deepened as she looked around. “There’s so much to do.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Everyone needs a break—even you, Queenie.”

“I’ve decided to ignore that horrid name. You’ll get tired of using it at some point.”

“Doubt it. It’s growing on me.”

Her eyes went to slits. “I have to get back to work.” She touched his forearm. “You really should stop. Or take a break yourself.”

“Last time I looked, my mother was six hundred miles away. I know my limits.”

“Are you just doing this because you know I don’t want you to be here?”

“Nope, that’s a bonus.” He studied the dark circles beneath her eyes that hadn’t been so visible in the moonlight last night. “Look, you need help. I’m restless. It’s been years since I took time off, and I’m no good at it. I have to be active. And believe it or not, Jenna’s not the only one in the family who cares about lending a helping hand to a friend.”

“We’re not friends.”

“You got too many of them?”

Shadows crossed her eyes. “No.” Her gaze sharpened. “But this is my hotel and my problem. I don’t rely on other people.”

“No kidding.” He softened his words with a smile. “Me, either. But I could use the exercise. Walking on a treadmill at the physical therapist’s is boring as hell.”

“I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself, and then Jenna will have that skillet out after
me
.”

“I can’t take new shots for you,” he blurted. “This is the only thing I can offer.” It was only fair to warn her.

“I didn’t ask you to. I would never be so presumptuous,” she said stiffly.

Damn it. He’d offended her prickly pride. But he was not going to explain. “I’m sorry. How about we have dinner tonight. I’ll drag out my laptop and you can decide on which of the images you want to use.” He could stand that, surely. He had to learn to. “I’ve taken thousands of pictures no one has seen.”

“That sounds like it could take a while.”

“Then give me the tour, talk to me about what you have in mind and I’ll cull through the files on my own, since time is not exactly your ally right now.” He hesitated. “Though you do get that artists don’t much like their work being chosen because the colors match the room, right?”

“Cade, I told you I don’t need your photographs. I don’t
want
your photographs. And I don’t want you here. You’ve got to go. Now.”

He really should stop for the day, anyway, but she got his back up ordering him around. He wanted to be useful. Needed to. Weird and unusual as the word
need
was for him to use or feel. “Look.” He exhaled in a gust. “We both care about Jenna, right?”

She nodded cautiously.

“And Jenna has her heart set on us working together.” An idea hit him, and he shook his head. “I don’t know why it took me this long to realize that if she’s been playing me on your account, telling me this sob story, she’s probably also drafted you to help out poor Cade who nearly died. Am I right?”

Sophie looked distinctly uncomfortable but said nothing.

He slapped his cap against his thigh. “That little…” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I should have seen it coming a mile away. I mean, Zane and Jesse and I had a bet going that she was up to something, but I just thought she was…” His voice trailed off as caution reared its head. “Never mind.”

“You just thought what?”

“Nope. Not sticking that foot in my mouth.”

She studied him for a long minute. Then her face cleared and her mouth curved. “You thought she was setting us up. As a couple, I mean.” She shook her head slowly. “Oh, Jenna…”

He shouldn’t feel so insulted. “Is it so incomprehensible? I mean, you’re gorgeous and I…well, I don’t clean up so bad.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?”

He scanned her head to toe and back up. “I may have been injured, but my eyes weren’t.”

Her cheeks went red. “I’ll have to consider that,” she said.

“Consider what? Whether you’re interested?”

It was her turn for the slow once-over. But she remained silent.

“You’re interested, all right.” He nodded in satisfaction. “And so am I.”

“It couldn’t go anywhere.”

“Who says it needs to?” Cade wasn’t accustomed to talking women into wanting him. “Or is it that you think I can’t pass muster, Queenie?” His grin widened. “I could have you boneless in my bed, so sexually satisfied you might not move for a very long time.”

One dark eyebrow arched. “Oh, really? Well, maybe I would have you begging first.”

“Oh, babe.” He hadn’t been with anyone since his fall, and he was just now realizing how long that had been. “You are on.” Sex wouldn’t fix his problems, but it could sure take his mind off them.

“On for what?”

He stuck out a hand. “How about a bet?”

“Bet?”

“A friendly wager. Let’s see who caves first.”

She looked intrigued, but then she shook her head. “I don’t have time to fool around right now, Cade.”

“Honey, everyone has time for great sex. It’ll recharge your batteries. You’ll sleep better. And you’ve got an extra set of hands here now. Hell, I’ll call in my brothers if need be.”

Her eyes went wide. “Your brothers would come work on my hotel for the sake of your sex life?”

He gaped. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t saying…” He shut up. Hell, the family was so concerned about him, they actually might do such a thing. But hell would freeze over before he’d get within a mile of that topic.

“Save your bet, Casanova. If we have sex, it will be with full understanding that no emotions are involved, that it’s just a fling. And it will be at the time and place of my choosing.”

He laughed out loud. “Oh, Queenie…” His grin widened. “Honey, you just keep thinking that.” But he hastened to agree. “I mean, yeah, only a fling, definitely. I’ll be gone soon and I don’t do long-term.”

“Neither do I.”

“Well, good.” He frowned. Somehow the sentiment sounded vaguely insulting coming from her. It was exactly what he wanted, of course, but…the woman gave him a headache.

“I still like a nice, clean bet,” he complained.

“Too bad. I don’t have one single dime to spare,” she said, and started to walk away.

“There are other things to wager besides money,” he called after her. Then he noticed a couple of workmen grinning at them.

And Queenie’s back going ramrod straight.

“Oh, hell.” He was usually smoother than this. Maybe not Zane-smooth, but he could hold his own.

Cade slapped his cap on his head and shoved his hands back in his work gloves. Women were so blasted much trouble. And what man understood them, anyway?

Before he went back to the weeds, though, he turned to watch her walk away. Damned if that woman didn’t have a body on her.

Unfortunately a razor-sharp mind and endless supply of stubbornness were part of the package.

He’d finish up, then go check on their dog.

Who’d probably be a lot happier to see him.

As he bent to rip out a root, he realized he’d already won one battle with her—she’d tacitly agreed to let him continue working today. It was only a matter of time before he won the war.

S
HE
SHOULDN
’
T
BE
USING
so much water since every penny counted, but oh, how good the hot shower felt on her abused muscles. Sophie let the water beat down on her shoulders, tilting her head this way and that to ease the strain of too much time spent beneath the dining room table applying tung oil.

The area she was calling the gathering room was going to be gorgeous, an open space where a large area of comfy sofas and chairs flowed into the dining area, where the guests would be treated to breakfasts they would never forget. The spread would bear no resemblance to the sad, standardized fare most chains had no choice but to utilize. Hers would continue the theme of home away from home, featuring a full country breakfast prepared to order—not one warming tray in sight—or for those who wanted lighter fare, she’d have seasonal fruits chosen each day for their freshness, hot breads made that very morning, coffee from beans ground as each pot was prepared and special teas made locally by a woman who was even now creating a Hotel Serenity blend.

The dining room had an outside wall with three seven-foot-tall windows that rose from floor level, designed so that a person could walk right through. Those opened onto a section of the deep porch, and guests could dine there, as well. But inside or out, all would have a view of the pergola she’d decided would perfectly complement the cutting garden. Beneath the pergola, as well as scattered along the deep porch, would be willow furniture with thick, sink-into-me cushions.

She was determined to give her guests the full experience of a gracious old home, but with casual comfort and modern conveniences. Though finding space to accommodate everything required for abundant hot water, ample wiring and energy-efficient air-conditioning hadn’t been easy to do while maintaining the look of one hundred fifty years of history.