City Girl (7 page)

She said it, Liss thought, as if the mere name would explain everything.

“I’m sure Kirk has told you all about me,” Gina went on. Pulling out a chair, she sat close to Mrs. Healey, who so far hadn’t said a word. She only sat staring, her mouth slightly ajar. With a tiny grimace, Gina added confidingly, “He’s probably told you about our little spat.” She laughed lightly. “Tell me, Mrs. Allbright, do you think he’s ready to listen to reason now?”

Mrs. Healey, finally closed her moth and said “I’m Mrs. Healey and I’m not his mother. I’m his coheir.”

Gina’s smile faded instantly. “Are you saying Kirk isn’t sole heir to Whittier Ranch? But why? I mean, what were you to the old goat—to Ambrose?”

       Mrs. Healey, Liss was perversely pleased to see, didn’t reserve her bad manners and ill humor strictly for her housemates. “That,” she said, shifting away from Gina, “can hardly be considered your business, and since this  is my home now as well as Kirk Allbright’s, I’ll than you not to enter without knocking another time.”

“I . . .of course,” Gina said, suddenly humble. “Forgive me, please, but I naturally had no idea . . .and I’m accustomed to coming and going as if this were my own home. You see,” she added in a sweet little-girl voice that was completely at odds with her statuesque figure, “I expected it would be my own home by now, but when Ambrose got sick, Kirk . . . changed. It think it was grief that did it.” Gina laid one long-fingered, red-nailed hand on Mrs. Healey’s arm. “Please, won’t you help me?  I do       love him so very much, but like most men, he can be terribly unforgiving at times. Mrs. Healey, I’m begging you, make him listen to me. That’s all I ask, just that he listen to me! I truly wasn’t trying to lure him away from his ranch. I’d be happy to live here year-round.”

Mrs. Healey pulled her arm free, her expression one of distaste. “I have no influence over that young man, miss, nor do I want to. He’s as rude, boorish, and insensitive as his father was. You’re better off without him.”

She turned and fixed a look of dislike on Liss. “And that,” she added, “is advice you’d do well to heed, too, young woman, if you’re tempted to do any more smooching in the laundry room. That boy is his father all over again, using sex and charm and empty promises to keep a housekeeper around rather than paying her a living wage.”

Quickly Liss shooed the boys out the back door, wondering what Mrs. Healey had seen and heard.

Gina’s cold gaze swept over Liss for the second time. “You and Kirk, smooching in the laundry room? I can tell you one thing, when Kirk and I are married, there’ll be no need for a housekeeper, so don’t get too comfortable.”

        Liss gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep her hands and her tongue out of mischief. Nothing would be gained by deliberately antagonizing this  . . .woman, regardless of how antagonistic she was toward her. But, Liss reflected, that didn’t mean she had to take any abuse, either.

“I hope you’ll both excuse me,” she said calmly. “I don’t like to leave the children outside alone too long. Good-bye, Gina. Nice meeting you.”

“My name,” Gina said pointedly, “is Miss Holland. “

The silence, as Liss walked briskly out of the kitchen and into the back room, was almost palpable. When she returned from outside more than an hour later, after she and the boys had built a marvelous snowman, she was not surprised to see that the table had not been cleared and the soup pot still stood on the stove. From the living room she heard the hum of a low-voiced conversation. Mrs. Healey and Gina Holland, it seemed, had struck up an unlikely friendship. Or was it, Liss wondered, hanging up her coat and the boys’ outdoor gear, so unlikely? After all, both would be happier if Liss didn’t exist. Maybe they thought that, together, they could force her to leave.

She tucked the boys into bed for a nap, then baked a chocolate cake to make up for being so stubborn over the candy bar issue. The cake was cooling, dinner was in the oven, and Liss was in the back entry hall, reaching up to a high shelf where she’d seen icing sugar stored, when Kirk came home.

“Oh!” Startled, she dropped down from her tiptoes and whirled around as he and Marsh came through the back door. Marsh’s claws clicked on the tile as he walked over to her. He nudged her with his cold, wet nose, then continued on to the kitchen and his water dish, where he lapped noisily.

Kirk halted just inside the door and gazed at her, a defensive expression on his face, a stubborn thrust to his chin.

Her heart rate increased and her insides seemed to melt. She stiffened and said, “Hello. I thought you weren’t coming home until late.”

He set a grocery bag on the freezer, then banged the snow off his boots onto the mat by the door. His stare challenged her. “ I changed my mind. This is my home, too, and I won’t be forced out of it.”

Liss’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware of having forced you out.”

“You didn’t,” he said. Abruptly, he reached out and caught her around the waist, his cold hands startling on her bare skin, for her shirt had hitched up as she’d stretched for the sugar. “This did.”

“What—” she started to say, but something in his expression silenced her. His eyes glittered under the brim of his hat. His chest rose and fell within the open front of his jacket. His powerful thighs brushed against hers, and his long fingers flexed on her waist, stroking the skin of her back. He bent low, held her tight against him, and then he kissed her.

Chapter Three

What the hell are you doing? Kirk asked himself as Liss’s warm, soft lips parted instinctively under his.

Oh, hell, he was doing what he’d been wanting to do, been thinking what he’d been thinking about incessantly since he drove away at noon. No, dammit, he’d been thinking about it since this morning, since Friday night, since . . . since the first time he ever saw Liss Tremayne. He was out of his mind.       He shouldn’t have touched her. He’d told himself he wouldn’t, just as he’d told himself to get out of the house and stay out until he had his libido back under control. But there he was, back home touching her, kissing her, lifting his head and rubbing away the crick in his neck, then bending to kiss her again.

“Ah, Liss . . .” he said softly when he eased away for the second time. “You taste so good.” She stared at him, her eyes bemused, and he knew he wasn’t through with kissing her, no matter how bad it made his neck hurt. With a groan, he lifted her up and set her on the deep freeze, then stood erect now that she was on a level with him. Both hands cupping her face, fingers sliding into her hair, he kissed her again deeply, his tongue probing, hers answering. Their hearts hammered rapidly, and both gulped for air when they finally broke apart.

“I kept thinking,” Kirk murmured, “about how you tasted this morning, how you felt in my arms. I wondered if it would still be the same.” He stroked a finger down her face until it rested on the small scar on her chin. “My memory didn’t lie, but this time was better.” He grinned. “Now, you taste like chocolate.”

“Oh.”

“I like the taste of chocolate.”

“So you . . . so you said.”

He smiled. “May I have another taste?”

Liss swallowed hard, fighting the sensual pull of his touch, his soft, seductive voice. She wouldn’t let herself be swayed by either, she vowed.

“No,” she said.

 “Liss . . .” He stroked one thumb over her moist, red lower lip. Her eyes, shadowed, ever changing, were mysterious, so alluring he wanted to go on watching their varying expressions forever. He caressed her lips again and watched the luminosity of those fantastic eyes intensify. Her lips trembled and she tried to turn her head aside, but his hands held her still as he gazed at her. “If you won’t let me kiss you again, at least let me look at you.” Then in a rough whisper, he blurted out what he was thinking before considering how it would sound. “Good Christ, Liss. If a kiss makes you glow like that, what must a climax do?”

       He saw shock flood her eyes and instantly regretted his blunt words. She blinked and, in that short moment, dispersed the unearthly radiance their kiss had generated. “You . . . louse!” she gasped. “Let me go!” She jerked free, swinging her legs up and around him, and slid off the freezer even as he tried to stop her.

“Hey, come on,” he said, blocking her path. “How come I’m suddenly a louse? What did I do that was so terrible? I kissed you, for the love of Mike! It wasn’t against your will. You kissed me back. I’m sorry if I was out of line, mentioning a climax, but if you think kisses like that don’t lead to lovemaking, you’re wrong.”

Where are your brains? Liss castigated herself. One of this man’s lovers had been there that morning; yet another was in the living room now, doubtless conspiring with Mrs. Healey to get rid of her. And there she was in the pantry letting him kiss her, kissing him back, listening to talk of climaxes and lovemaking and . . . Lord! In less than forty-eight hours, how had she managed to get herself into such a situation?

“Lovemaking?” she said scathingly, as much to convince herself as to convince him. “Not between you and me, they don’t.”

“Why not? I’m a man. You’re a woman. We’re both well past the age of consent, and believe me, a kiss like that suggests consent.”

“In your dreams! You said yourself,” she went on before he could get a word in, “that we have to try to share this place in some kind of harmony, and we won’t if you come on to me whenever you feel like a cheap thrill. So keep your kisses for other women. I don’t want any part of them.”

“Don’t you? You did only moments ago.”

“Because you took me by surprise,” she defended herself. “But I have a surprise for you. Another of your girlfriends is here.”

He frowned as he stepped back, setting her free. “Who?”

Liss laughed. She scooped up the bag of groceries, dropped the sugar box into it, and said over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen, “Does it matter?”

Kirk felt overheated and disgruntled as he followed her. “Of course it matters.” Who in hell did Liss Tremayne think was his girlfriend? he wondered. He sat on a chair at the end of the table to pull off his boots. It had been several months since he’d had anyone who could have been even remotely considered a girlfriend. Since long before Ambrose’s death he simply hadn’t had time.

“Hello, darling.” He felt suddenly sick as he heard Gina speak in the doorway behind him. “I thought I heard your voice.” He spun around, knocking over his boots as he shot to his feet.

“What the hell-” he began, but her mouth covered his, cutting off his words. He stood there, shocked into immobility, watching Liss’s face freeze before she turned her back. He wrenched Gina off him and held her away from him, staring at her, searching for words powerful enough to get through this woman’s thick, impervious skin. She was totally unable to believe him when he said something was over, and what had been between them was damned well over.

He was still gaping at Gina, wondering at her gall, when she reached over and poked Liss on the arm. “Would you get out of here?” she said. “Mr. Allbright and I would like a little privacy. Can’t you find something else to do? Maybe the downstairs bathroom could do with a good cleaning. The last time I was here it was—”

“Gina!” Both Gina and Liss jumped at his loud voice. His hand whipped out to capture Gina’s wrist, and he spun her back toward him. “Who the hell do you think you are, and who do you think you’re talking to?” he demanded, his eyes dangerously cold. Liss thought if a look like that had been trained on her, she’d have shriveled where she stood. Gina, however, withstood it well.

“Now, Kirk, sweetie,” she cooed, “Mrs. Healey explained everything to me. I know how little experience you have in dealing with inside help, so why don’t you permit me to lay down some ground rules for, um, Lisa or whatever her name is? That way, things will be so much easier for . . . everyone. “

“Such as whom?” Kirk asked in an ominously quiet tone.

“Such as you,” she said, patting his cheek. “And dear Mrs. Healey.” She hesitated for a second, then pouted prettily. “And me, darling, because I simply can’t live without you and I know that in your heart of hearts you really do want me to move in with you and—”

“Move in with me? Gina, all I want is for you to get out of this house!”

“But—”

“But nothing!”

Taking her arm, Kirk inexorably led Gina toward the front door, apparently knowing without having to ask that she had come in that way. Of course, Liss thought, turning so she could watch their progress down the hall through the kitchen doorway. Gina Holland was not the back-door type.

“I may not have much experience dealing with ‘inside help,”‘ he went on, “which Ms. Tremayne is not, but I have plenty of experience in throwing you out when you assume too much and won’t take no for an answer.”

Gina wriggled free and faced him. “But, Kirk, you don’t mean—”

“Dammit!” he roared, flinging her caressing hand off his cheek. “I mean exactly what I say! I’ve played this scene with you a few times too many, Gina, and I’m getting sick of it!” He put his hands on her upper arms and marched her in front of him toward the door.

Mrs. Healey came out of the living room in response to Kirk’s words and Gina’s whining protests. “Young man,” she exclaimed, “what is the meaning of this? Why are you manhandling that poor girl? Let her go at once.”

As Liss watched in fascination, Kirk let Gina go, but only to grab her jacket off the coat tree he’d polished so hard that morning. He held it out to Gina, waiting. “Hardly manhandling, Mrs. Healey,” he said. “I’m simply escorting an unwelcome, uninvited guest to the door. Kindly keep out of it. Gina, put your coat on.”

“What do you mean, unwelcome and uninvited?” Mrs. Healey said. “I welcomed Gina. I invited her. In fact, she’s joining us for dinner. Isn’t that right, my dear child?”

“Thank you, Olga,” Gina said, simpering, then appealed to Kirk again. “See, darling? I’m staying.” The high heels of her black boots made her almost as tall as Kirk, Liss noticed, and wondered how Gina still managed to look frail and delicate. She’d never before seen anyone with a D-cup look delicate. Come to think of it, she’d never believed there was a man alive who’d willingly throw out a woman who wore a D-cup. Maybe this romance of Gina’s was all on one side.