Gift of Fortune (11 page)

Quint studied her silently until she asked, "What?"

"You could ask me. I'm available and eligible."

"You?" she asked incredulously.

He raised an eyebrow. "What? A simple cowboy not
good enough? Afraid I'll embarrass you? Darlin', I'll have
you know, I clean up pretty good."

Aileen's face flushed. She kept forgetting how sensitive
he was. "I only meant that you'd be bored stiff. A man like
you?"

"What does that mean, a man like me?"

"Well, I'm sure you're used to more exciting dates than
the local high school's National Honor Society dinner."

"Depends. What's on the menu?" Quint asked.

"Are you serious?"

"Try me. What's to eat?" he repeated.

"The menu's the same every year. Roast beef. Fried
chicken. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Rolls. Pies. Milk,
iced tea, or coffee."

"Cherry pie?"

"Usually, along with apple and a couple of different
cream pies."

"Sounds good to me."

Aileen stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're serious?"

"I am. Why not?"

"You'll have to wear a tie," she warned.

"I can handle that."

"And there will be speeches and a short ceremony," she
added.

"I'll drink plenty of coffee to keep me awake."

"If you're sure-"

"Aileen, I said I was. I'll escort you to the dinner."

"Thank you," she said gravely, suddenly feeling a little
shy.

"You're welcome. Good night."

Aileen was so flustered that she didn't say good night
until Quint was already in the hall. Then she sat back, considering what she had just done.

She had just accepted a date with Quint, the man with
whom she wasn't going to get involved. Except it wasn't
a real date. Quint was just her escort for the evening.

The phone rang again. Aileen tensed until she heard her
friend's voice.

"Aileen, pick up. I've got to talk to you. Are you there?"

"I'm here, Jennifer. What's up?"

"I'm calling you from the pay phone in the library. Guess
who I've just run into?"

"I have no idea. Brad Pitt?"

"I wish. No, Steve Sanders. He followed me into the
children's room and demanded to know who you're going
out with. What's up with him?"

"I wish I knew. He seems to think that because I went
to Washington as a chaperone, I should go out with him."

"There was a time you thought he had possibilities," Jennifer pointed out. "Of course, that was before Gorgeous
Green Eyes arrived on the scene."

Aileen opened her mouth to deny this but then snapped
it shut.

"No comeback? I take that as a yes to my question. So,
who's your date for the dinner? As if I needed to ask."

"It's not a date," Aileen said.

"Oh? How's it not a date?"

"Well, on a date, the man picks up the woman-"

"Quint isn't picking you up simply because he lives in
the same house."

Ignoring Jennifer's statement, Aileen said, "And the couple goes to dinner-"

"Aren't you going to dinner?"

"You know what I mean. This is hardly an intimate, romantic dinner with most of the faculty there and a bunch
of students and their parents. And I'm sure you remember
the cafeteria? Not even a blind person could claim it was
a romantic setting."

"Well, no," Jennifer agreed, "but you're going as a couple and that's what counts."

"We're not a couple. Quint is just my escort."

"Oh, but what an escort. You'll be the envy of every
woman there."

Aileen groaned. "Maybe I should come down with some
highly contagious disease and stay home."

"You can't do that! My baby sister is being inducted,
remember?"

Aileen sighed. "You're right, but I have a bad feeling
about this."

"Why? You're taking a date. Most single teachers do and
the married ones bring their spouses. It would be odd if
you didn't."

"I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right. What are you going to wear?"

"Wear? I hadn't given that any thought yet. Maybe my
blue pantsuit."

"No, no. You've got to wear a dress. Show off your legs
and flash a hint of cleavage. You know my motto: You got
it, flaunt it a little."

"This is a school function, for heaven's sake."

Jennifer sighed. "I know." Then she cheered up. "Hey,
you know what? Why don't you and Quint go with us to
The Black Hat on Saturday? Do a little dancing. I bet Quint
knows how to dance. If not, I'm sure he's a fast learner."

"He's a good dancer."

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

Aileen wished she could retract her rash disclosure.

"Spill it, girl. How do you know that?"

"He waltzed me around the kitchen the other night."

"Oh, really? What else happened?" Jennifer asked,
breathless with curiosity.

"Nothing else happened. Listen, I've got to hang up.
Haven't finished grading. Bye."

Aileen sat back down, but had a hard time concentrating
on the compositions. It didn't help that the phone rang
twice more, but when the answering machine message
clicked on, the caller hung up. When it rang a third time,
she walked toward the phone but couldn't bring herself to
pick it up.

Quint came back into the kitchen. Seeing Aileen standing
by the phone with a frown, he reached around her and
turned the volume dial to its lowest setting.

Aileen smelled soap and a warm, damp male body. He
must have just showered. She didn't dare turn around to
look at Quint.

"Do you always have such a hard time turning down
persistent men?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Steve is a colleague and that makes
everything more difficult."

"I don't see why. He's not asking you to help him in a
school matter. He's asking you for a date. You turned him
down. That's the end of it."

"Would it be for you? I mean, if a woman said no to a
date, would you leave it at that?"

"Sure. I'd be disappointed, but I wouldn't bother her
again."

"No means no?"

"Absolutely," Quint assured her.

Despite her best intentions not to, Aileen turned around
to look at him. Big mistake. He was wearing jeans. He'd
left his shirt unbuttoned. Quint had dried himself hurriedly.
Water dripped from the ends of his black hair to his shoulders. Unthinking, she reached out to touch a rivulet. Quint
caught her hand.

"How does it feel to be that desirable to a man?" he
asked.

"To Steve? I suspect it's probably mostly his ego that
makes him persistent, not my appeal."

"Don't be too sure of that," Quint murmured. "For a prim
schoolmarm, you pack quite a wallop in the appeals department."

"And if I weren't a schoolmarm, I'd be-"

"Still sexy. In a ladylike way."

"Isn't that an oxymoron?" When she saw his raised eyebrow, she said, "Sorry. That's the English teacher speaking.
An oxymoron is a sort of contradiction."

"Meaning that a woman is either sexy or a lady but never
both?"

Aileen nodded. "There's a long tradition in literature that
depicts women as either a madonna or a whore."

"That's narrow-minded thinking," Quint said, "and
wrong. Just about every woman is a combination of both.
It depends on the situation which part dominates."

Quint had entwined their fingers. He turned their hands
so that hers rested against his chest. He moved it slowly
across his warm skin. His chest hair caressed her like raw
silk. Aileen felt her heartbeat thunder in her ears. A warning, or the bewitching beat of a jungle drum? Both, prob ably. After a moment's hesitation, she tugged to free her
hand. Quint let it go.

"The madonna's voice was apparently louder," he murmured.

"Ours is a working relationship, so it's best," she
claimed.

"You're probably right," Quint replied, his tone reluctant, grudging. He left the kitchen before he could be
tempted into disagreeing with Aileen.

The sun was close to disappearing behind the horizon
when Aileen straightened up and leaned on her rake. A
moment later she pressed her hand against her back.

"Sore?" Quint asked, joining her.

"Yes. I guess our aerobic sessions don't hit all the muscles I use in getting the garden ready for planting."

"Sure looks good," Quint said, looking at the neat, rectangular beds Aileen had laid out. "You put in a lot of
work. Did you have to do it all this weekend?"

She nodded. "Next weekend it might rain and then it
would be a little late to plant the early vegetables."

"Which are?"

"Spinach, sweet peas, and some lettuces, and greens.
They like the cool growing season."

"Like clover and alfalfa," Quint said.

"Exactly. That's why you worked every day this week
until it was too dark to see."

"It's been a hard week, but good. Got the planting done."

Aileen heard the satisfaction and the pride in his voice.
Who would have thought that Quint would turn into such
a hard worker? Not she, certainly. At least not that first
afternoon when he'd come to the ranch. Her father had
done the right thing in giving half of the ranch to Quint.
Not only had it been morally the right thing to do, but right from a purely practical point of view as well. She would
never have found a foreman who was even remotely as
dedicated to the ranch as Quint was.

If only she didn't find him so disturbingly appealing. So
far one of them had always remembered that getting involved was a bad idea. They needed cool heads and
friendly cooperation to keep the ranch going. What if they
both forgot that at the same time? Heaven help them. Resolved to keep a strong rein on her emotions, she turned
toward the house.

"I better go in and check on dinner. I put the meat into
the crock pot after lunch and the vegetables into the oven
an hour ago."

"Sounds good to me. I'll put the tools away for you," he
offered.

When Quint joined Aileen in the kitchen, she was poking
the meat with a fork. He walked up behind her to look over
her shoulder. "Looks and smells good."

"It's just about ready. Are you hungry?"

"Always." And not just for food. Standing this close, his
entire body hummed with awareness of her. As if she
sensed something, she moved away. "What can I do to
help?"

"Take the meat out and put it on this platter." Aileen
handed him the dish and then turned her attention to putting
the vegetables on the table.

They concentrated on their food, the way people do who
work hard physically and need to replenish their strength.

When the dishes were done, Aileen lifted and lowered
her shoulders with a grimace.

"Just how sore are you?" Quint asked. Without waiting
for an answer, he placed his hands on her shoulders and
began to massage them.

Aileen gripped the edge of the counter. She couldn't repress a groan of pain.

"I know it hurts at first, but soon the pain will lessen
considerably. I know. Whenever I could afford it, I'd get
a massage after rodeoing."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"By a man or a woman?"

"Whichever was available. These were professionals.
Not the people who work in the sleazy massage parlors
you're thinking about."

"How do you know I was thinking of massage parlors?"

"From the tone of your voice. It went all teachery."

"It did not! And there's no such word as `teachery.'

He grinned at her. "I was bracing myself for lunch detention," he murmured into her ear.

"I bet you served plenty of those."

Quint chuckled. He bet most of her male students didn't
much mind serving lunch detention in her classroom. He
certainly wouldn't. Given the choice between feasting his
eyes on her or his stomach on school cafeteria food, he'd
choose Aileen every time. She had shifted her position
slightly, bringing her closer to him. By leaning forward just
a little, his lips brushed against her hair, which smelled of
sunlight and spring air.

Aileen closed her eyes. Quint had been right. The pain
had passed into something resembling pleasure. She
gripped the counter harder and bit her lower lip to keep
from purring with delight.

Somehow she must have communicated her pleasure, for
suddenly she felt Quint's body touching hers. The temptation to lean against him was immense. With a last clutch
at reality, Aileen took a couple of steps away from him.

"Thanks, but I better go and stand under a hot shower.
I'll see you in the morning." Aileen left quickly.

Quint leaned against the counter. Was one of them always destined to flee from this kitchen?

Aileen gathered her hair into her right hand, attempted
to smooth it with her left prior to coiling it, and, failing to
do so, finally let it fall with a frustrated grimace.

She must have successfully swept up her hair hundreds
of times in her life, so why was she having so much trouble
tonight? Bracing her hands against the top of her dressing
table, she stared at herself in the mirror.

This was her third time attending the National Honor
Society dinner. Actually, her fourth, if she counted her own
induction. She didn't have to do anything but read the students' names as they came forward to be recognized, so
why did her stomach feel as if it had been invaded by a
swarm of high-strung butterflies?

"Aileen? I don't mean to rush you, but shouldn't we be
leaving soon?" Quint called from the bottom of the stairs.

She opened her bedroom door. "I'll be down in five
minutes."

"Okay. Want me to drive?"

"Sure."

"My pickup or your car?" Quint asked.

"My car gets better gas mileage. The keys are on the hall
table."

Having promised to be ready in five minutes, Aileen
sprang into action. Miraculously, her hair coiled neatly on
the next attempt and her fingers were steady while applying
eyeliner and lip gloss. She made it downstairs in four
minutes.